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ILIBILARYOFCOSGRESS.J' 

n^"^- Y^^^ %""' 

i UNITED STATES OF A.^IERICA ^ 



WILD FLOWEES. 



POEMS. 



BY 



A^' 



CHARLES W. nUBNER, 

Auih(yr of " Souvenirs of Luther," etc. 




A^ 



\ 



NEW YORK : 
THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

1877. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 

THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHDsG COlirANY. 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

DEAMA. 

Maid of San Domingo 7 

WILD FLOWERS. 

Greeting 70 

Voices of the Spring 77 

To A Mocking Bikd ^4 

Evening by the Sea §(j 

CUIUSTMAS g7 

Grabuating Hymn 9l 

Beautiful Star of Evening.— Sou,:,' 93 

Violets go 

Gloom and Glory i«v:> 

Love in Absence 10 1 

To Carl S. H IO3 

Ida 105 

Beatrice 107 

Dreams 109 

Canzonet HI 

Christmas Chime 112 

To A Rose II4 

Mother and Child Ug 

Wandering II9 

Carl Ioq 

Ii>A 123 



iv CONTENTS. 

The Judgment Day 135 

Autumn 1 26 

You 128 

Falling Stars 129 

The SE.isoNS 131 

EUMENIE 131 

Lobe -Ley 130 

Spring Flower 1 38 

To A Beautiful Child 142 

Spirits 14/* 

In a Graveyard 14S 

Thou Everywhere 150 

Invocation to SrRiNft 152 

Childhood Days. — Song 155 

Love's Fip.st Dream — Soug ^ 157 

The Brook I5y 

FABLES L\ rJIYME, 

The Laiek and her Young Ones IfiS 

The Lion and the Four Bulls I6y 

The Wolf .vnd the Lamb 170 

The Cock and the Jewel 173 

The Frog and the Fox 173 

The Fox and the Grapes 174 

The Bowman and the Lion 175 

The Two Pots 17(1 

The Mountain in Labor 177 

The Belly and its Members 17S 

The Wind and the Sun 180 

The Ass in the Lion's Skin ISg 

The Old Man and Death iy3 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 



TTIE MAT!) OF SAN-DO]\ITNGO. 



A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 



ADAl'TKl) riiOM TIIH GERMAN. 



DKAMA riS PERSON u^. 



BABECAN A Creole 

rONIE, HtT r)au!.Mitir. 

(lUSTAVE (k- la ]JlKD...AS\vispOmror in tiicFnncli Snvieo. 

CON.TO IIOANGO, An Insurgent Negro Chief. 

COLONEL STRO:SILY, ] 

E^^^^^l^^^- ) I. Freneh OfT.eerB. 

ADOLPII, \ his ponp. j 

FERDINAND, ) J 

NANKY A Negro Boy. 

FRENCH SOLDIERS. 

ARMED INSURGENTS. 

The scene of the drama is the Island of San Domingo. Tlie 
time of aetion the year 1803; during the revolt of the natives, 
and massacre of the French residents by the insurrectionary 
slaves. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 



ACT 1ST. 

A trntpte.ituom nifjht. The yard in front of Uoango's hovae. 
The front gate open. 

SCENE I. 

[Enter nAnECAN and tojiik. 
BABECAN. 

It is a fearful night ! In all my life 
I have not seen its equal. How the storm 
Howls through the house, and smites the groaning 
earth ! 



8 WILD FLOWERS. 

TONIE. 

Mother, let us return to bed ; my heart 
Is trembling at the wrathful voice of Heaven — 
Ha ! see that blinding flash ! An angry God 
Hurleth his curse upon the savage blacks. 

BABECAN. 

What ! hast thou pity for the accursed French ? 

Dost thou forget again the nameless wrongs 

That made a loathed outcast of thy mother ? 

The cruel, hellish villainy that drove 

A trusting woman from the path of honor, 

And cast her soul to hopeless, blind despair r 

Has not a fierce, relentless hatred tracked us, 

A hate which never rested, lagg'd, nor slept 

Until its fangs had caught, and crushed the victim ? 

Did I not i^lace the wide and j)athle.ss sea 

Between them and my shame, and yet the vultmcs 

Forsook me not, but swooped to haunt and tear me ? 

Am I an evil thing, accursed of God, 

For man to shun, and which no roof dares sheltei- ? 

What was it made me what I am — a crazed, 

A broken-hearted, hi>peless, desperate woman ? 

Whose only thoughts are curses on her kind, 

Whose heart has but a single aim — revenjre ! 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Q 

TONIE, 

Mother, "believe me, I do well remember 
The fearful story, but it is not just 
That a whole nation should be forced to pay 
The penalty of crime some heartless wretch 
Did perpetrate, to please his recreant nature ; 
Why wouldst thou shed the blood of guiltless men. 
And league thyself with cruel savages, 
To gain the horrid meed of thy revenge? 

BABECAN. 

Pshaw ! child, the end will justify the meanfs ; — 
For years my wrongs have cried in vain to heaven, 
And now they shall be surfeited with blood ! 
These murdering slaves, more sure and keen to track 
A fleeing Frenchman than the hound which scents 
The wild boar in the forest's pathless depths, 
Are ministers and tools of my revenge, 
And feed the flames of my undying hate ! 
Ah ! as they speed the bullet through the heart. 
Or cut the throat of some detested Frenchman, 
I bless them for the bloody work they do 
For vengeance, and for me ! Death to the race 
From which thy father sprang! death to the 
cowards ! 



10 WILD FLOWERS. 

And now no more of this — words are not deeds^ 
Thou dost remember that when Conjo h'ft na, 
He baiU^ us hold, by force or stratagem, 
All fuij^itives that hitherward may stray, 
To seek the grateful shelter of our ronf ; 
The chief will soon n-turn, and then his knife 
I\Iay find again some righteous work to do ; 
To lu'lp him all we can shall l)e our task, 
And though we can not dare the tented Held, 
Yet we'can aid his cause in our own way, 
Anil, aidiii'j,' his, do service in our own. 

TON IK. 

And wilt thou show no mercy then, my mother? 

Be just, be mereil'ul ! T ean forgive 

The rage for blood that reiuls the breast of men, 

But that a woman's heart should harlior lust 

For human l)lood exceeds the range of reason, 

And adds new horror to recorded crime. 

Turn the imploring wretches from thy door! 

P>e deaf to all their cries, and answer not ; 

Oh, lure them not with dark and treachri>us wiles 

Into a murderer's den ; l)e merciful ! 

Think oi my father ! he is one of them, 

A kindred 



THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 11 

BABECAN. 

Hnsh ! thy father is a villain ! 
His crimes alone deserve my direst wrath, 
My everlasting vengeance ! Yes, with blood 
Shall be effaced the record of my wrongs — 
Death to the dastard race from which he came ! 
What Conjo bade lis do we will perform; 
Mercy were idle, pity would be sin. 
And treason to Iloango would be death ! 

TONIE. 

Oh, mother! let my life be forfeited, 
But do not steep thy daughter's hand in blood! 
Crush not my soul with weight of dreadful deeds, 
Taint not my virgin heart with human gore ! 

BABECAN. 

Silence, I say ! how darest thou disobey me ! 
Thy foolish talk doth ill befit the time ; 
Away, to bed ! This dark and stormy night 
Is no iiiaiTs friend, and none will dare to brave it; 
Come ! go to bed. 

TONIE. 

Dost think that T can sleep ? 



12 WILD FLOWERS. 

BABECAN. 

Do as thou wilt ; it matters not to me, 

Thou shalt obey me, that is all. Good night ! 

[Enttrt tht houtt. 
TONIE. (solus.) 

" Good night " to me ! Aln-s, how can I sleep 

When through the chambers of my tortured soul 

Treason and murder glide, with restless pace. 

Sleep breathes alone the peaceful airs of heaven; 

A tranquil heart alone can taste its bliss. 

What difference would there be twixt good and evil 

If in the heart, oppressed with dreams of crime. 

Sweet sleej) could still assert her tranquil reign ? 

Poor Tonie ! No, there's no "good night " for thee ! 

Ah, woe is me ! Who robs me of my peace. 

And chases slumbur from my weary eyes ? 

Almighty God , my mother ! She it is 

That thrusts the dagger in my shrinking liand, 

And woos me on, along the dreadful path 

That leads to murder, and the gates of hell. 

How soft was once my sleep ! My maiden heart 

Was cradled in the lap of tender dreams. 

And angel pinions canopied my rest; 

Now horrid phantoms haunt me — visions born 



THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. IS 

Of treason and of blood ! Ah, not for me 
Shall flow the fragrant balm of happy sleep — 
Poor Tonie! would that thou couldst have ''good 
night." 

\Enttri tht honse_ 

SCENE II. 

Oustave, s^pord in hand, and pistols !n his belt, enters the gate. 
GUSTAVE. 

I'll go no further; be the issue here 

Or life or death, I am resolved to brave it! 

Ignoble is the heart that fears to die, 

When from the ashes of such sacrifice 

Immortal love will spring. The elements, 

In dreadful conflict meeting, rock the world. 

And blind the howling night with fire. 'Tis meet 

That man, at least, be merciful when heaven 

Hurls death-impelling bolts, and God himself 

Seems deaf to supplications. Let me fall 

Beneath the bludgeons of a savage mob. 

Or feel the assassin's dagger in my heart — 

I'll save my friends and brothers. Let me try; 

Humanity dwells everywhere; perchance 

I'll find it even here, for love, and pity, 



H. WILD FLOWERS. 

Depend not on tlie color of one's skin. 

[Hi knocks at the house door with the hilt of ?iis sicnrd. 

Open ! oi)en, for the love of heaven ! 
Ten human lives hang on the verge of death ! 
If in your hearts there is one spark of pity 
Opf'u your door, and do not let us perisli ! 

BABECAN. 

[At one of Iht winitmot. 

Who calls? Who knocks so loudly at my door 
In this most drcadfid hour? 

GUST AVE. 

A fugitive, 
Who craveth food and ^lu-ltcr. Let me in ! 
Amid the fearful darkness of this night 
I can no furtlier go ; have pity on me ! 

BABECAN. 

Art thou alone ? 

GURTAVE. 

I am alone. 

BABECAN. 

Tliere's danger, 
In these rude times of murder and revolt, 
To open friendly doors to I'ugitives, 
But in this wild, temptestuous night my heart 
Is moved with pity; I will let thee in. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 15 

GUSTAVE. 

Can I dej^end on thee ? 

BABECAN. 

Be not afraid ! 
My daughter, Tonie, and myself, are all 
That occupy the house. Wait whore thou art. 
And I will send her down to give thee entrance. 

[Retires from (lie window. 
01T8TAVE. (sohlS.) 

Thank God ! I find a generous lic^irt at lat ; 
Saved, saved ! and hope has tiiinnplicd o'er de- 
spair ; 
r>iit, linld, may I not be deceived ? May not 
llcr words, so fair, lie fair hut to hetray me ? 
Was that the voice of honest sympathy ? 
Dare I remain ? My friends will jicrish also 
Sliould I not save myself — what can I do ? 

[nankv is seen in the. background, locking the garden gate in great haste. 

Halt! hoy, what wouldst thou do.? 

NANKY. 

T locked the gate, 
As r»a])ccan commanded me to do. 

GUSTAVE. 

Why lock it now ? 



16 WILD FLOWERS. 

NANKY. 

Ask tliat of her thyself; 
In Conjo's absence she is master here. 

GUSTAVE. 

And pray, boy, who is Conjo ? 

NANKY. 

Conjo, sir, 
Ts a p;roat chief, who leads our men to liattle 
Against the French, and yesterday he joined. 
With eight score men, the camp of Dessalines. 
They say the white men fear him dreadfully — 
Hast thou not heard of Conjo ? 

GUSTAVE. 

Then, by heaven, 
I'm in the murderer's very den ! I say. 
Give me those keys! I want tlie front gate open. 

NANKY. 

Nay, nay ! 1 dare not do that. 

[Noiu is heard in the hottst 
GUSTAVE. 

They are coming ! 
I hear them on the stairs — 'tis death to linger — 
Give me those keys, I say ! 



THE MAID OF SAN DOMINGO. 11 

NANKY. (7'tinnmg.) 
0, help! help! help! 

GUSTAVE. 

Too late, too late. So be it. Let them come ! 
I'll sell my life as dearly as I can. 

[ffe cocks a pistol, and aims it at the door. 
The door ojyens slowli/.] 

Stand back I 

fiONiB appears, her face revealed 6y the light of a lantern held in her hands. 

Is it an angel that I see ? 

TONIE. 

What ails thee, stranger ? 

GUSTAVE. 

Speak ! is this a dream, 
Or am I waking ? Art thou flesh and blood, 
Or some sweet vision of the spirit land ? 
I f(vared to meet some black and hideous demon. 
With heart as foul and loathsome as his face, 
But, \o ! u}K)n my doubting vision steals 
The image of a woman, fair as heaven ! 

TONIE. 

Thou shouldst not trust the dubious play of colors ; 
Beneath a skin as pure and white as snow 
May lurk a traitor's heart. {A.siiJe) Oli, righteous 
Heaven, 



18 WILD FLOWERS, 

Would tliat lie understood me! 

GUST AVE. 

Can T dnnl)t 
The honest language of thy gentle eyes ? 
Or fail to trust a lace where God has stamped 
ThQ signet of his own divinest honor ? 
I feel that Love and Beauty fashioned thee 
By noblest rules of sacred womanhood, 
And yet wouldst have me doubt thee? Never 1 
never! 

TONIE. 

It is not safe to rest beneath this roof; 
The insurgent hordes, on blood and rajjine bent, 
Are scouring all ihe country round about; 
We are not safe from their intrusion. Find 
Some other place of refuge, if thou canst. 
{Aside) He lulU not coni})n'liend me! 

gu>;tave. 
Well, let them come; I will remain. Thy mother 
Has promised me the shelter of her roof. 
And thou, alone, wouldst be unmerciful ? 
Wouldst thrust me forth again into the gloom, 
To struggle with the warring elements. 
And savage men, moi's* pitiless than they? 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. ^^ 

TONIE. 

Would I could save thee, stranger ! Nanky, go, 
Assist my mother. Tell her I am coming. 

NANKY. 

Well, Tonie. 

TONIE. 
Stranger, he npon thy guard ; 
n.'lieve me when I say thou art not safe. 

GUSTAVE. 

What meanest thou ? 

BABECAN. 

[SpeaJn'ng tJirmi/jh nn upprr window. 

What means all t-his delay ? 
TONIE. — (Aside.) 
(rood God, 'tis mother ! 

BABECAN. 

Come close the door. Should any one he near 
The light may rouse suspicion. Come ! 
TONIE. — (Aside.) 

Her voice 
Has sealed his doom ! (Aloud.) We're coming, 
motlun- ! 

nAUJXAN retires from the window.] 

Stranger, 



m WILD FLOWERS. 

Follow me ; thy faith shall not be vain — 
0, holy angels, keep my soul fi-om stain ! 

GUSTAYE. 

Then, take my hand ; I follow where thou'lt lead, 
For even death, in such a dream, were sweet ! 

[Exit. 

♦SCENE III. 

An apartment with three doors; one in tlie center, and one at 
either side. 

BABECAN. — {solus.) 

Why doth he hesitate ? Can he suspect me ? 
Dotli he distrust my pity ? Yes, by heaven ! 
'Twere well he did, for when his feet have crossed 
The threshold of my door, his doom is sealed. 
The latch that he doth lift with eager hand, 
To seek within a refugt' from the storm, 
Sliiill close on him forever! Tliere's no path 
To lead him back to life and lilterty ; — 
r>ut, hark, they come ; rejoice, avenging gods ! 
Another victim bleeds upon your altars ! 

\Knt«r TOMK itnd oibtavr. 
GUSTAVE. 

I thank thee from the bottom of my heart, 
For granting me the shelter of thy roof; 



THE MAID OF SAN DOMINGO. 21 

Despcair had almost overwhelmed my soul ; 
My faith in fortune and in heaven were lost — 
But hope and life again are dear to me ! 

BABECAN. 

Forsooth, thou art a bold and reckless man, 
To stake thy life against a woman's heart ; 
Thou dost not know us, nor dost seem to care, 
15uilding thy hopes on treacherous chance alone. 

GUSTAVE. 

Th\' daughter's pure and guileless face suffices ; 
For as I gaze into her beauteous eyes, 
And hear the golden music of her tongue, 
My heart forgets the savage hate of race, 
And boundless faith absorbs my soul. 

BABECAN. 

The trust 
Which every feature of thy face discloses, 
Deserveth similar confidence from me ; 
Know, then, this is Conjo Hoango's house, 
Tlie noted negro chief, of whose exploits, 
And matchless cruelty thou may'st have heard. 
When France, dehrious in her joy, proclaimed 
The age of universal liberty, 
She gave to every slave upon these isles, 



22 WILD FLOWERS, 

The signal for revolt, rapine and murder ; 

As from his leafy lair the panther lea})S 

On his unconscious victim, sprang the slaves. 

With gloating wrath on their defenceless masters ; 

Soon were the highways ghastly strewn with dead. 

And smoking ruins blotted all the land ; 

The first who fell beneath Hoango's hand 

Was his old master, Rolf de Lavalette, 

The generous lord of tliis once fair domain ; 

The mansion next became the jirey of flames, 

And as the reeking ruins sank to dust, 

He forced me, at the peril of my life, 

To swear eternal vengeance on tlie French, 

And fealty to him, and all his band. 

I did so, trembling for my daugliter's fate. 

For mark thou, she was born in luited France, 

And much I marveled at this freak of mercy 

For one whose veins hold his oppressors' blood. 

Then in this lonely house he bade us dwell, 

Forbidding me, on pain of death, to harbor 

A white man here at any time, or give 

Help, drink or noarishmcnt to fugitives. 

He has been gone since yesterday, t(^ take 

Powder to the insurgents tln-ough your lin(\s ; 

If Conjo knew that I had h ubored one 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. ^3 

Of thy detested race beneath this roof, 
My life were forfeited. 

TONIE. 

\In a whisper, asid-:. 

Oh, mother, mother ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Believe me, friends, I mean no treachery 
In begging thus yom* liospitable aid ; 
I am not one wliose heart delights in wrong, 
Or 'neath a smiling face conceals tlie traitor ; 
Ye must not judge me by the wanton brutes 
Who, in tlic name of France, defiled her fame ; 
An honest soldier shields his country's honor. 
And fights her battles as a brave man should. 

BABECAN. 

Well, what, and who art thou ? But first remove 
Those weapons from thy person ; thou art armed 
Prodigiously ! Come, make thyself at home. 

TONIE. 

[With anxiety. 

Oil, mother, let our guest retain his arms. 
They do so well become a gallant soldier ! 

BABECAN, 

Thou silly girl I 



24. WILD FLOWERS. 

GUSTAVE. 

{^Laying hit weapom on cne tuble, 

I will, with your })erniission 
Relieve myself of these ; though oruamentalj 
They are no less a burden. 

TONIE. 

[SignificanUi/. 

Useful things 
Should not be trifled with. 

BABECAN. 

Tonie, be still I 
Now to thy story, sii-. 

GUSTAVE. 

[Seating him self 

With pleasure, friends : 
I am a Swiss, but France's eagles claim 
My loyal heart as her adopted son. 
E'en as a child my restless s\nnt yearned 
To gaze upon strange people, and strange lands ; 
My heart with wild adventures sighed to cojie, 
And in my dreams the lapping sea-waves sang 
Forever in my ears. France called for troops ; 
My uncle, and three cousins, volunteered 
To fight beneath her banners in Domingo. 
I left my homestead in the care of friends, 
Exchanged the plowshare for the soldier's sword, 



THE MAID OF SAN-DO'MINGO. . 25 

And soon the favoring Genii of the deep 

Placed us upon these shores of death and slaughtd 

We found the peo])le raging vvitli revolt ; 

Each foot of soil we gained was drenched with 

blood ; 
Tlie rebels fought like tigers, and our trooj)s 
Hedged in on every side by death and famine, 
Were routed, and are fleeing everywhere — 
Ca})e Francois is the tnily ]>i>int we liold. 
Our own brave regiment lay, sori^ beseiged, 
In Fort St. Dauphin, ready to defend 
Each inch of ground, wlien treason from our grasp 
Wrenched our last hope away, and Dauphin fell. 
My comrades sank like grain beneath the scythe ; 
The foe had fired the place at thirteen points, 
And soon the city, and the shipping, lay 
Whelmed in a sea of flame. All hope of flight 
Seaward from the ill-fated spot was gone ; 
We then, my uncle, I and my three cousins. 
Resolved to dare the worst that fate could send ; 
Five comrades joined us. Through the blaziu"- 

streets 
We fought our dreadful way, like desperate men, 
Till through a suburb, and a gate, we gained 
At last the desolated land bevond. 



S6 WILD FLOWERS. 

Thus far, by fortune favored, we escaped 
The murdering bands that scour the isle ; resolved 
To reach, if it be possible, Cape Francois, 
Where General Rochambcau still bravely holds 
The last asylum of the fleeing whites. 

BABECAN. 

Wliat madness ! for a half score of men to pierce 
An army's front. 

TONIE. 

It is heroic, mother ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Nay, call it, friends, the work of blind despair! 
Two weary weeks have we been wandering thus, 
Hid in the forest's gloomy deptlis by day, 
While moon and stars have shaped our course by 

night. 
Near a lagoon, a little distance hence, 
I left my comrades waiting. If your hearts 
Contain a single drop of human pity 
Oh ! s(^nd them food, and give them shelter here. 
Ye have been kind to me, be kind to them. 
And, surely, heaven will yet reward your mercy ! 

BABECAN. — {Aside.) 
Ten men, said he ? That might be dangerous — 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 27 

But cautious pluck and cunning will achieve it. 
{Aloud.) My friend, thou dost demand too much 

of me ; 
I can not shelter ten men in this dwelling, 
Hoango's spies would soon discover them. 
Through yonder window dost thou not percieve 
A faint glow bright'ning the horizon's verge ? 
'Tis there the camp fires of his people burn ! 
On every path and highway scouts are lurking. 
Were hut the roads all clear your friends might 

come — 

GUSTAVE. 

Oh, send them food ! and let my comrades know 
That help is not far distant. 

TONiE. — {Aside.) 
Holy Virgin ! 
What can my mother mean ? What direful scheme 
Hath she determined on ? 

BABECAN. 

Well, be it so. 
I do not see how I can well refuse thee ; 
This very night shall Nanky go to them, 
To bring them food and drink. Didst thou not say 
Thy friends are camped close by ? 



28 WILD FLOWERS. 

GUSTAVE. 

Yes, by the lake, 
Within a grove of oaks, down to tlie right. 

BABECAN. 

I know the place ; be not distressed about them — 
Didst thou not say ton men ? 

GUSTAVE. 

I am the tenth. 

TONIE. 

I In a wltisptr aside. 

Is this my mother ! wli<> would thus betray, 
This frank and unsuspecting youth ? 

BABECAN. 

Now, Tonie, 
Be quick, and show ouf handsome guest the room, 
The only j)lace of refuge I can offer ; 
Meantime T will })rei»are the meals for all, 
Wliile thou dost set the table. 

TONIE. 

[ Taking orSTAVi'g cloak and pistol-. 

Well, then, come 1 

GUSTAVE. 

I follow thee. 

TONIE. 

Fear nothing, stranger ; mother 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 29 

Has placed thy safety in my hands, and I 
Will shield thee, like an angel, from all danger, 

\Exit TOSIE and gttstave through the left hand door. 
BABECAN. — (sohlS.) 

" Will shield thee, like an angel " — pshaw, the fool ! 

This angel guardianship will soon be over. 

Now, Babecan, test all thy woman's wit ! 

One victim, only, will not be enough — 

The whole black-hearted pack of dogs must perish ! 

Hoanso's knife shall cut their hearts in twain ! 

Tonie is but a child ; I can not trust her ; 

She fails to grasp the scope of my designs ; 

Besides, her heart^eans to her father's people. 

Alone will I accomplish it, and feed 

The bm-ning hunger of my soul for blood ! 

l£xU. 

SCENE IV. 

[Enter oustavk and tonie through the left hand door. 

TONIE. 

[Pointing back through the door. 

In there thou wilt be safe. It is the room 
Where my guardian, Lavalette, was murdered 
By Conjo and his men. The dear, good man 1 
How tenderly he loved his little Tonie I 
May gracious God reward him for it all. 



so WILD FLOWERS. 

The room is empty now, and being farthest 
From the high road, will offer safest shelter. 

GUSTAVE. 

Ah, dear and charming girl, a thousand thanks 
For all thy kindness ! 

TONIE. 

I will hasten back 
With a good meal, the best the house affords ; 
When thou hast eaten, thou canst sleep in peace, 
For I will wake, and watch. 

[tome voalks busily to and fro, arranging the table. 
GUSTAVE. (solus.) 

How fair she is I 
What grace celestial animates her form. 
What magic music breathes from her sweet lips ! 
Oh, bliss incarnate of my fairest dreams ! 
The darkness, and the horror of these days. 
Like phantoms fleeing from the touch of morning, 
Fade in the radiant glory of thine eyes. 
And every sorrow, dying, owns thee queen 1 
Can it be true that fate has drifted me, 
By some mysterious power, upon these shores, 
That from the womb of most disastrous times, 
A love, more fair than spirit ever dreamt 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMTN-GO. SI 

Might spring to bless my soul ? — Oli, Tonie, Tonie ! 

TONIE. 

Didst thou call me ? 

GUSTAVE. 

'Twas my soul that called ! 

TONIE. 

Supper is ready. Dost thou wish aught else ? 
If so, tell me immediately, before 
My mother, Babecan, retires to bed, 

GUSTAVE, 

\TaMng hold of her hand. 

Dost thou serve every stranger with such zeal ? 

TONIE. 

I love to serve all that are kind and jrood. 

GUSTAVE. 

And dost thou think that I am kind and good ? 

TONIE. 

Thou didst confide in me, before a word 
friendship passed between us ; only those 
Whose hearts are true can feel such perfect trust, 
And those that trust can not be evil-minded. 

GUSTAVE. 

There is no blemish in my heart, believe me ; 



32 WILD FLOWERS. 

No crime has stained the record of my life, 
Kor do I fear to die. 

TUNIE. 

Thnn slialt ii<.t die! 
TIk' mute assurance of mini' eyes sufliced 
To make Vliee give (hy life into my keeping, 
And hy the grace of God, thou b;iiall not rue 
Thy fearless faith in my integrity ; 
I'll save thy life, or die in the attempt! 

M'STAVK. 

What meanest thou? Am I in danger here? 
S}>eak ! Have I heen betrayed? 
TONIE. 

Stranger, be calm, and fear not ; for, believe me, 
My lite stands i)ledged for thine. 

GISTAVE. 

And wonld'st thou weep 
Should an assasin's dagger ])ierce my breast? 
Oil. (lailing! say would tears of fond regret 
Embalm my memory iu thy loving heart? 

TONIE. 

Oh, Heaven ! 

OrSTAVE. 

Nay, answer me ! 'Ti*; sweet to know 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 33 

That by one's grave some faithful heart will weep, 
That some dear hand will deck our dust with 
flowers. 

TONIE. 

Oh, speak not thus — it pains me ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Art thou weeping ? 
Come, let me kiss those precious tears away ; 
Speak, darling ! hast thou ever loved ? Oh, tell 

me. 
Has earth's divinest bliss and darkest woe, 
Fallen upon thy spirit from the skies ? — 
When 1 beheld thee first, and on my sight 
Thy beauty dawned, like some bright star that gilds 
Tlie rifted gloom of night with sudden glory, 
I felt the throbbings of a new born life 
Thrilling my soul. I would have followed tliee 
Though Murder stood, bare-armed, to striki- iiir 

dead ! 
One thinight alone had mastery of my soul ; 
Tlie potent witchery of thy charms enthralled uic ; 
My sjjirit staggered 'neath its weight of bliss ; 
All that I knew, and saw, and felt was — love ! — 
What! Aveeping still? Why all this silence, 

darling ? 



SJ^ WILD FLOWERS. 

I can not bear it — tell me, hast thou loved, 
Or dost thou love ? Behold me at thy feet — 
By all that's holy, answer ! 

(TOSIE, overcome with emotiont she can not 
conceal, and with a grsture xvltich reveals 
her love for gustave, breaks awag from 
him, and disappears hurriedly from tht 
room. 

GUSTAVE. 

[Hastening after her' 

Tonie! Tonie! 
The Curtain Falls. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. €5 



ACT 11. 

Tlie same apartment as at the end of Act 1st. 

SCENE I. 

GUSTAVE. 

[Entering through left hand door: 

It seems I am the only one awake ; 
There's no one here ; but yet the hour is early — 
So I must fain content me till they come. 
1 could not rest or sleep ; a sweeter draught 
Then e'en the god of lethean sleep can tender, 
In his star-wreathed chalice, slaked the thirst, 
The fever-frenzy of my love-charmed soul. 
Spirit of love, how wondrous is thy power ! 
Guiding congenial hearts through golden days, 
With sweeter music than the seraphs sing. 
Love can outstrip the farthest flight of fancy ; 
Earth has no boundary that it can not leap ; 
It feareth not the battle's lurid gloom ; 



S6 IVILD FLO HERS. 

It looks iindazecl at fortune's glaring sun ; 
Nor dreads to seek the cave of blind despair. 
Yea, every heart that feels its charmful touch 
Gains fruitful knowledge of immortal things. 
Oh, Tonie, Tonie ! our congenial hearts 
Blended their spirit-harmony ere yet 
. Our mortal eyes had met : oVr the sea waves 
Stretching in vast and restless desolation, 
Came to our ears the melody of love — 
tSoul calling n])on soul! 

[Tie stands lost in reviry. 

{Enter) — TON IF. 

May I disturb thee? 

GUSTAVE. 

Ah, is it thou? 

TONIR. 

Thou art an early riser! 

GUSTAVE. 

And wouldst thou have me sleep? My heart's 

unrest 
Can not be quieted by empty sleep. 

TONIE. 

Didst thou not rest or sleep ? 

GUSTAVE. 

When in the heart 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 37 

The pulses throb, as they do now in mine, 
Reluctant nature heeds the soul's behest, 
And is its slave. Didst thou sleep ? 

TONIE. 

No, I could not ; 
All night insurgent troops marched by the house. 
I hear their GLnieral lias massed his forces 
To take Cape Francois by assault. To-morrow 
'Tis said, the dreadful struggle will begin, 
When foreign rule shall cease o'er all these lands, 
And the proud flag of France be furled forever ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Then I must hasten on, nor lose a moment — 
Where is thy mother ? We must now devise 
The best means for escape. 

TONIE. 

Nay, nay ! not yet ; 
The rear guard of the army still is near. 
Their videttes, even now, are plain in sight ; 
'Twere certain death to thee, and all thy comrades, 
Shouldst thou attempt escape at such a time. 

GUSTAVE. 

What, then, dost thou advise me should be done ? 
ISurely, dear Tonie, thou wilt go with me ? 



38 WILD FLOWERS. 

A heart as pure and tender as thine own 

Can never be the friend of savage men, 

And breathe this lust and murder-tainted air ? 

Come, dearest, come ! The tranq[uil skies of 

France 
Shall smile upon our blended lives, and bless 
Our coming years with happiness. Oh, come, 
Have faith in me ! 

TONIE. 

Shall I forsake my mother ? 

GUSTAVE. 

Oh, she will go with us ! 

TONIE. 

Am I to trust 
A stranger, whom but yesterday I knew not ? 

GUSTAVE. 

Love takes no heed of time ; it buds and blooms. 
And ripens its sweet fruit within an hour ! 
Methinks that I have loved thee, ! so long ; 
I've known thee since I knew or felt whatever 
Is good, and pure, and true, and beautiful ! 
Tell me, have I interpreted thy heart ? 
Were all thy tears, last eve, for pity's sake ? 
Did friendship's spirit only haunt thy bosom ? 
Or was it love's ecstatic ministry ? 



THE MAW OP SAN-DOMINGO. S9 

TONIE. 

Have pi'ty on a weak and silly girl ! 
Yes, yes — I love thee 1 Oh, my heart in vain 
Struggled to hide its secret from thine eyes ; 
Oh, pity me ! I am a foolish maiden, 

I only feel, I only know 1 love thee ! 

Yes, take me hence ; I'll trust and follow thee ; 
No father's care is mine, and mother spurns me, 
With cruel coldness from her moody breast — 
Oh, love, love me — and forsake me not ! 

GUSTAVE. 

[Fervently embracing her. 

God bless thee, Tonie ! Ah, this world contains 
Some sunshine still to cheer our fainting souis. 
Some blooms of Eden which no storm can blisht ! 
Well, Tonie, dark and toilsome is the way 
Which we attempt together. Take my hand ! 
In weal or woe I never will forsake thee, 
For thou art now my wife, in sight of heaven ! 
Let us get ready quickly ; I will go 
And let thy mother know our plans 

TONIE. 

Beware ! 
For that way lies the road to our destruction. 
Hear me ! I hold a secret in my breast, 



JfO WILD FLOWERS. 

A dreadful secret — but, thou slialt be saved I 
Thou art 

(■tonie, with a Ionic of alarm, interrupts herself. 
< and hastens to the door, Ksiening to the tound 
y^of rapidly approaching footsteps. 

Oh, God of mercy ! here comes mother. 
Betray no sign of fear — make her believe 
That thou dost trust her blindly ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Speak ! what means this ? 

TONIE. 

Silence, I say ! 

[The door opens suddenly, 
BABECAN. 

Why, stranger ! dost thou care 
So little for our lives, risked in thy favor, 
That thou shouldst dare exposure in this room ? 
Back to thy hiding place ! 

GUSTAVE. 

I ask thy pardon ! 
I strove to learn some tidings from my friends ; 
Perhaps thy messenger will soon return. 

BABECAN. 

The messenger I sent has just returned ; 
Thy friends are well, and send thee kindest greet- 
ino\ 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMtNGO. J^l 
And thanks to me for food. 

GUSTAVE. 

No other message ? 

BABECAN. 

No other message. 

GUSTAVE. 

Heaven reward thee, mother ! 

BABECAN. 

Now, monsieur, haste thee to thy hiding place ; 
When every jjeril's past, that threatens us, 
Thou mayest return. 

GUSTAVE. 

I go there ; 

[In a u'Uisp'r to tonie 

Shall I, Tonie ? 

TONIE. 

lllastili/, in a whispT, asvif. 

Trust in thy hridf- — fear not ! I will protect thee ! 

GUSTAVE. 

I trust and fear not — God is everywhere. 



WILD PLOWERS, 



SCENE 11. 

TONIE and BABKOAN. 
BABECAN. 

The reckless rascal ! there he goes, believing 
That he will soon retrace his eager steps ! 
His heart is filled with vain and foolish dreams, 
Nor recks he that the sin-ivenging gods. 
Before their smoking shrines of sacrifice, 
Stand ready, and await their victim. Ha ! 
Is this a sam^jle of the Frenchmen's cunning ? 
Away, with the poor bunglers ! Let them learn 
The mercy of revenge from such as I, 
Or pity from the traitors of Domingo 1 

TONIE. 

\Throwint] herself at the feet o/babecam 

Mother ! 

BABECAN. 

What is the matter ? 

TONIE. 

Mercy, mother ! 

BABECAN. 

For whom ? 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. J^B 

TONIE. 

For our poor guest ! oh, doth thy bosom 
Contain no feeling save revenge and hate ? 
By all that thou dost still revere as holy ! 
By all a mother's love for her own child ! 
By all the sacred things of earth and heaven ! 
Have mercy on the stranger ! Wouldst thou kill 
An innocent man, who never wronged us, mother ? 
Who pledged us hand and heart, in childlike trust ? 
Mother, by all thy hopes beyond the grave, 
Have mercy on the stranger ! 

[tonib rt«e» slowly, and stands, her head drooping, her hands covering her /ace, 
BABECAN. 

Art thou mad ? 
Am I to lose the sweet reward of vengeance, 
The luxury of a great revenge, because 
A silly girl sheds tears ? Am I to miss 
A chance I've pra}^ed for sixteen bitter years, 
And which has come at last, because a child 
Sobs at my feet, and idly whimpers " pity" ? 
Am I to din into thy ears forever 
Thy mother's wrongs and thine ? How thy vile 

father. 
Whose infamy unfathomed hell itself 
Can scarcely hope to compass, lured my heart, 



U WILD FLOWERS. 

While I, and thy dead guardian, lived in France ? 

Until I fell, the victim of his lust, 
And thou wert born, the fruit of all my shame ? 
Did he not swear, before his courtly peers, 
That thou wert not his child, nor any truth 
In anght I said ? Did they not drive me forth 
With jeers and curses, as a perjured wench ? 
Am I to love thrice cursed France for this ? 
Nor seek to cleanse her stains from off my soul, 
With the best blood that flows within her veins ? 
Hast thou become a craven at a time 
When fate and fortune, with approving smile, 
Stand ready for our purpose of revenge ? 
Away ! prate not of mercy ! 

TONIE. 

Mother ! mother ! 
By the Almighty God that dwells above us ; 
Deprive me not of all the taith I have 
In our humanity — the only bond 
That binds me still to thee. Destroy me, mother. 
But force me not, by any deed of thine, 
That I, thy child, must curse the womb that bore 

me. 
And execrate a mother's holy name I 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO, Jf5 

BABECAN. 

How darest thou ? Tonie ! 

TONIE. 

God forgive iny words ! 
But we must now determine this between us — 

[She again thrrnos herself at the feet o/babkcan. 

Behold me at thy feet ! I clasp thy knees 
In my soul's agony, and ])lead for mercy ! 
Blot not thy hands with hlood, untimely shed ; 
The blood of innocence ! From such libation 
Will spring the germs of crime and deathless 

wrath ! 
Let mercy's heavenly harvest bloom instead ; 
Oh, force me not to loathe thee, and to hate 
Her, whom in nature, I should love and honor ! 

BABECAN. 

Silence, traitress ! not another word, 

If thou wouldst not have Conjo hear of this ! 

TONIE. 

[Rising slowly, and with dignity. 

Mother, I do not fear Hoango's wrath ; 
No earthly power can force me to submit ; 
Death has no terror for me in this cause ; — 
All that is dear to me — yea, life itself 



46 WILD FLOWERS. 

Will I devote to save this fugitive — 
He must, he sliall be saved ! 

BABECAN. 

[ With terrible calmnets. 

Is that the cue ? 
Now, mark me, girl ! 'Twill be no fault of mine 
If thy dear prot(jg-^, when Conjo comes, 
Shall be beyond all fear of further harm ! 

TONIE, 

\_Atide, with subdued voice. 

My God ! what can she mean ? Oh, dreadful 

thought ! 
Beneath her mocking words lurk hints of murder ! 
(Aloud.) Well, mother, may the God of justice 

judge us ! 
I owe thee nothing more, for every bond 
Of reverence or love is rent between us ; 
Adrift upon a shoreless sea of blood. 
Thy sinful soul has doomed its own perdition ; 
I know thy foul, thy fiendish purpose well, — 
I am thy child no more ! 

[Exit hurriedly, 
BABECAN. — (solus.) 

Was that my Tonie ? 
Can doves be changed to hawks? or lambs to 
lions? 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Ip 

Does "pity" fill her breast with so much rage ? 
Nay, it is something more ! It is the glow, 
The wild, mysterious agony of love ! 
Surely, the fellow must have won her heart. 
And she intends to thwart my purpose, — well, 
Who wins may laugh ! 

(Sht ivalls (o a closft, takes a paper filled with a 
< white powder from her jmck-et, anil proceeds to 
{^empty it into a number of jugs containing milk. 

This silly love of Tonie's, 
Perhaps, would interfere with all my plans ; 
I must be rid of her. Down in the cellar 
There's room enough for scores of stubborn daugh- 
ters. 
Meanwhile, should Conjo come not in the course 
Of a few hours, this conquering cavalier 
Shall sip a potent poison with his milk ; 
His hungry comrades, waiting in the woods, 
Shall have the balance ; thus will I assist 
My faithful friend, Hoango, and fill up 
The measure of my vengeance to the brim 1 

{Exit. 



4.8 WILD FLOIVERS. 



SCENE III. 

• Another room in HOANGo's house, having but one door, and one 
window. GTJSTAVE ly>n(f asleep upon a sofa hi an alcove, with the 
curtain drawn aside. TONIE enters with a coil of rope in her hand. 
She trips lifjhtly to the alcove. 

TONIE, 

The seal of holy peace has closed his eyes ; 
How soft he slumbers ! Busy fancy })aiiits 
Her fairy hues upon his dreaming soul — 
Perhaps the shape that charms him is mine own, 
Or weeping Love, distraught with woe and passion ; 
Sure, 'tis a witching dream that thralls his heart, 
And wreathes his radiant face with smiles. SL-t-j) 

on ! 
My tremulous voice shall not disturb thy rest, 
Or drag thee rudely from the fairy world 
That canopies thy soul with golden skies ! 
Let fancy cheat him with her tale of peace, 
While treason, even now, with ste'althy pace 
Makes busy preparation for his doom — 
But let him sleep, for love is vigil keeping, 
And when the moment come? in which to dare 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 49 

His rescue, I will wake him. With this rope 
To aid him, he can safely reach the ground, 
Thence I will he his guide through secret paths, 
And take him to his comrades at Cape Francois. 

GUSTAVE. 

\I}rta,yixily, 

Tonie! Tonie ! 

TONIE. 

He sleeps so soundly, yet he calls- my name — 
Shall I awaken him? Yet, it were well 
To counsel with him as to our escape — 
I'll go and wake him ; with a tender kiss 
Will I recall him from the land of dreams — 
A poor requital for the bliss he loses ! 

fSht stoops gent!)/ over ctiSTAVE to kiss him, but 
< hearing an approaching noise, relinquishes her 
{^purpose, and listens attentively. 

What noise is that ? Hark ! Voices ? 

[She hastens to the windoio, 

God of mercy ! 
Hoango, and his cut-throat hand have come, 
And with the loathsome crew I see my mother. 
With tongue and busy gesture telling all ! 
A dreadful grin distorts his dusky face, 
An open blade is glittering in his hand — 
They come this way ! — Iloango and his horde 
Are in the house ! and we are lost ! Oh, heaven ! 



50 WILD FLOWERS. 

Is there no way at all for our escape? 
Well, we will die together ! — Let me think — 
Heaven yet may help us — they are on the stairs — 
I hear Hoango's raving — hold ! — yes — yes ! 
Yes, that will do — thank God, the plan will save 
us J 

Ttosie takts the rope, and ntpi'lli/ 
■i winding; it arniind the hndi/ o/ofs- 
(t AVE, and the sofa, lies him securely, 

GUSTAVE. 

[Awakening with a start. 

What does this mean? What art thou doing, 
Tonie ? 



TONIF. 

[ }y'illi terrible emphasis. 



Silence ! 



GUSTAVE. 

[hi a\voice of suppressed agony. 

I am betrayed ! 

TONIE. 

[Draiving the curtain close. 

Be still, T say; 
If thou dost really love me, prove it now I 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 51 



SCENE IV. 

IIOANGO «?('i BAEEOAN rv^^h into the room. They are followed by 
two armed negroes, who stand at the door and guard it. 
IIOANGO. 
Where is the daniucd Frenclimau? Where is lie? 
J iilernal traitress ! wench ! hast thou hetrayed us ? 
Girl, answer me ! Has he escaped my clutches? 
By all the fiends of hell ! where has he gone ? 
Confess, or I will kill tliee on the spot ! 

[Takes hold of tothv.'s arm, and shakes her ruddy. 
TONIE. 

What does this mean, Hoango ? Art thou mad ? 
Why this assault on me ? What have I done ? 
What awful thing have they accused me of? 

BABECAN. 

Oh, shameless impudence ! 

HOANGO. 

Didst thou not plan 
The prisoner's escape, and aid him in it ? 

TONIE. 

Thy rage has surely made thee blind, Hoango ! 

(Gm'np to the alcove, followed hy noANOo a»(l 
■< BAiiKCAN, she draivs the curtain aside, disclosi-g 
(.GU8TAVE securely tied with ropes. 



52 WILD FLOWERS. 

Behold ! and thank your Tonic for the deed ! 

BABECAN. 

[ With intense sur}»ise. 

What do I see ? 

HOANGO. 

[To BABECAN. 

What means this, woman ? 

[Rushing on qustavk, and brandishing his knife. 

Ha! 

I'll cut thy heart out ere the sun shall set, 

Dog ! devil ! Frenchmen ! — How my hot blood 

boils ! 
At sight of one of thy accursed race ! 
ViUain ! prepare to die — thy doom has come ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Jesu ! must I be slain by these assassins ? 
Oh, Tonie ! Tonie ! 

HOANGO. 

[Addressing toxie. 

Speak ! who did all this ? 
We thought the lascal had escaped us all, 
And Babecan denounced thee as u traitress ? 

TONIE. 

Touched by his gallant bearing, and his youth, 
'Tis true, I did desire to save the stranger, 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 53 

And so forgot my duty to my friends ; 

But as I came from mother's room to this, 

Speeding along the hall, I chanced to linger 

Before the proclamation of your chief, 

Brave Dessalines, our dear Domingo's hope, 

In which the General calls upon the people 

To drive the foreign vipers from our soil. 

So tliat our homes might all again be free ! — 

I read— and as I read my soul grew strong. 

My heart recovered fi-om its foolish blindness — 

The sacred flame of freedom blazed anew ! 

I had abueed thy trust, and wronged my mother — 

This had I to undo, ere I could hope 

To gain thy pardon, and my mother's love — 

Nor did I hesitate. I found him sleeping; 

OuP prisoner's aim was to escape to-night — 

I took these cords, and bound him as he lay — 

If still ye think I am deserving censure 

Kail on — by heaven, methinks 'twas neatly done 1 

HOANGO. 

Bravo, my girl ! The color of thy skin 
Has not impaired thy cunning, or thy heart ; 
In both thou dost resemble thy good mother. 
How sayest thou, Babecan ? Is it not so ? 



6^ WILD FLOWERS. 

BABECAN. 

Conjo, I cannot comprehend the girl ! 
Haclst thou but seen and heard her — 

HOANGO. 

Never mind ! 

\Jnrning to one of the guards. 

Away, D'Almara! bring our comrades hither 
Tell them their captain bids them come at once, 
Prepared for rifle practice, and the target 
Shall be this felloAv's heart, at twenty ])aces. 

[Addrtssiitg the other guard. 

Loan me thy rifle, Omar ! 

[lie aimi the gun at gustavk. 
TONIE. 

[Eusfiing between hoango aiid gustave. 

Hold ! Hoango ! 

[hoanoo endeavors to push her aside. 

To kill him now were a most foolish deed — ' 
Hold ! in the name of liberty ! nor thwart 
The happy issue of a wiser plan. 

nOANGO. 

What ? wouldst thou save the villain's life • 

Away ! 
And let me drive this bullet through his heart. 

TONIE. 

{Grasping the rifle. 

Halt ! in the name of freedom and Domingo !• 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 55 

A sino-le foeman slain must not suffice us. 
Wouldst tliou allow his comrades to escape ? 
Nay ! rather grant him life until to-morrow ; 
Demand of him a message to his friends, 
Who wait his coming at the lake of Gulls, 
Bidding them come with speed, as all is well ; 
A written line or two is all thafs needed 
To make them rush, like quails, into a trap ; 
Once in our dwelling thou canst butcher them 
Without the least of danger to thyself — 
Remember, Oonjo, these are desperate men ! 

HOANGO. 

Yes, thy advice is good, and I will take it — 
What sayest thou, Babecan ? 

BABECAN. 

I deem it wrong 
Thus to delay our guerdon of revenge. 
But thou art master hero, and shalt decide. 

HOANGO. 

Be it as Tonie says ! 

TONiE. — (Aside.) 

Oh, God be prai ed ! 

HOANGO. 

D' Almara tell our men they now may rest ; 
Our labors, for to-day, are done. Remember, 



56 WILD FLOWERS. 

They must be ready at the peep of dawn 
For other work. 

[To aUSTAVB. 

And thou, young whelp, pre[»<ire 
To face thy fate — to-morrow thou slialt die ! 
This l)ullet, here, sliall sj>eed thy soul to hell ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Oh, slay me now! Be merciful for once! 

I am a white man — and Domingo's foe — 

Why still delay ? Oh, kill me ! Pierce this heart 

That slu^, with wanton cruelty, has broken — 

Oh, Tuniel Tonie ! 

TONTE. 

[Aside, in a voice nfd ep emntinn. 

Heaven, he deems me false ! 

HOANGO. 
Thy groan of pain is music to my ears ; 
1 know no sweeter sounds in all the world 
Than the death-frenzy of mine enemies ! 
It seems thy life is torture? Thou wouldst die? 
Then live until to-morrow's sun shall rise, 
And let me gloat upon thy misery ! 

[Addressing one of the gwirds. 

Do not allow this Frenchman to escape ; 
Should he attempt it, shoot him like a dog. 

[Addressing 1)ai;e<a> an(/ tonie. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Si 

Come, I am hungry ; give me food and drink ; 
We had a long but lucky raid to-day ; 
I've much to tell ye. 

\Exit ivith BABECAN. 

TONIE. 

{Lingering hrhind, approaches the alcove and in a low voice in passing. 

Put thy trust in Heaven ! 
Fur love siiall triumph, and thy bonds be riven. 

lExit. 

The Curtain Falls. 



5S WILD FLOWERS, 



ACT III. 

A fii-est scene. A Jagnnn in the hach gronnd. In the forfijronnd 
arms stacked, and various military accoutrements lying about. Col. 

STEOMLT, EDTTAED, ADOLPH, FEEDINAND, and four privatn-, iilf in 

uniform resting in various postures. At the rear of the stajc a 
sentinel paces to and fro. 

STROMLY. 

And still no message ! Can it be that Uiistave 
Has lost his way ? Sure, it cannot be far 
From here to Cape Francois, and when he h^ft 
He said that he would speedily return — 
I can not comprehend this strange delay. 

ADOLrH. 

Perhaps he waits the friendly shades of night; 
Tlie roads are thronged with bands of roving 

negroes ; 
We dare not run the risk of being seen. 

FERDINAN©. 

We ought to know the enemy's position ; 
I think, therefore, it is advisable 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 59 

For one of us to trace these forest paths, 

And find an outlet westward, where the clearing 

Allows an ample view. 

EDUARD. 

Let me go, father. 

STROMLY. 

The plan is good, but to insure success 
Ecquires experience ; I will go myself. 

ADOLPH. 

Nay, father, nay ! We will not let thee risk 
Thy precious life upon a task like this ! 
'Tis ours by all the holy ties of nature ; 
We, as thy sons, refuse the sacrifice. 

EDUARD. 

What Adolph says is true. I'll try my luck ! 
■ To lose thee, father, were to lose all hoj)e ; 
While, should I perish, ye may still escape. 

FERDINAND. 

Father, remain. 

ADOLPH. 

Let Eduard try it, father ! 

STROMLY. 

Well, children, be it so. Eduard, my son. 
Seek to the westward, with a cautious foot, 
This gloomy forest's nearest boundary, 



60 WILD FLOWERS. 

There reconnoitre skillfully, and find 
The enemy's position, if you can. 
Farewell ! my own, my dear, heroic boy — 
God bless thee ! 

\Iimhracti him, 
EDUARD. 

Father, brothers ! fare ye well ! Heaven grant 
That I may soon return with joyful news. 

STROMLY. 

Shouldst thou not find us here on thy return, 
Lo(^k for us at the next plantation, Eduard ; 
Thou knuwest the way. Farewell, sir ! 

EUUAIID. 

Au revoir! 

[Exit. 
STROMLY. 

A brave boy, that ! — My children, did ye dream 
So rich a mine of manhood's sterling gold 
Lay hid beneath that gay disguise of his ? 
Oh, what a blessing is a virtuous child ! 
It is the lairest gift that heaven can give us ! 
In truth, I know, no matter how I fiire, 
That I am wealthy in the honest love. 
The faithful friendship of my gallant sons ! 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 61 

FERDINAND, 

Father, in praising us dost thou forget 
Our noble cousin Gustave's greater claim 
Upon thy generous heart ? The bravest man 
That ever drew a sword in honor's cause 
Or made his breast a bulwark for his friends, 
On the red fields of Mars ! — Ye well remember 
'Twas he who, single handed, clove the foe, 
And twice, my father, saved thine honored life 
Upon that bloody day at Fort Dauphin 

STROMLY. 

By Jove ! he fights as doth become a Swiss, 
The brave descendant of great Winkelried ; 
Indeed, he is a friend most true and gallant, 
Whom, like a son, I love with proud affection. 
May heaven preserve him to our grateful liearts. 

THE SENTINEL. 

I see a woman hurrying down the })ath ; 
In rapid flight she comes this way. 

STROMLY. 

A negress ? 

SENTINEL. 

A wliite girl, Colonel. She detects me now — 
She beckons — and increases her wild speed. 



eB WILD F LOWERS. 

TTROMLY. 

What can she want with us ? Be ready, boys ! 

All rise, and hasten in the direction of the aentinel. 
Enter tonie with dishevelled Iiair, and 7uarly 
breathless. 

TONIE. 

Are ye from Fort Daupliin ? Yes, ye are Fi-ench- 

men ! 
Thank God, I am with friends 1 

STROMLY. 

What woiildst thoii, girl ? 

TONIE, 

To arms ! to arms ! No moment mnst be lost, 
For life or death depends upon your speed 1 
If there be love and courage in your hearts, 
Away, away! he dies within an hour — 
Detain me not with questions — save him ! savo 
him ! 

ADOLPn. 

What dreadful fate impends ! 

STROMLY. 

Explain thyself! 
Who needs assistance ? Whom are we to save ? 

TONIE. 

Your daring comrade, Gustave ! — Hasten ! hasten ! 



THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 63 

STEOMLY. 

Ha ! Gustave ?— Heavenly Father ! 

FERDINAND. 

Hapless friend ! 

ADOLPH. 

Woman ! can he be saved ? What is the ransom ? 
Quick, tell us quick ! What can be done to save 
him? 

TONIE. 

He is a captive in Hoango's hands ; 

To-day they would have slain him ; but my cunning 

Gciined a short respite for him. I depend 

Upon your aid to help me in his rescue ; 

Thus far hath heaven smiled upon my task. 

Now, follow me at once, and he is saved ! 

I'll guide ye to a postern, which will give us 

Admittance to the garden, and the court-yard ; 

The negroes, in their huts are sound asleep. 

Nor reck of coming danger. All their arms 

Are stacked around the yard. A few nails driven 

Deftly between the latches of their doors, 

Prevent their egress. With our captive friend 

Once in our midst, by old, familiar paths 

I'll take ye safely to Cape Francois. Come ! 



6^ WILD PLOWMRS. 

Why will ye linger thus ? Or can it be 
Ye are afraid to risk your lives for him ? 

STROMLY. 

Children, away ! Our Gustave must be saved, 
Though we should perish in the brave attempt ! 
We owe this duty to our sacred honor, 
And love deniiuuls our noblest sacrifice — 
A coward, he wlio longer would delay I 

TONIE. 

Give me a sword ! The flashing steel inspires 
The heart to daring deeds ! My spirit thrills 
With god-like inspiration ! Love has nerved 
My woman's hand with the resistless power 
Which plucks the starry crowns that heroes wear! 

[ADOI.ni gives her a sivord and pistols. These she fastens in hi:r girdle. 

Death ? Death ? what is it ? 'Tis the crown of 

life, 
If ])\\i oin- lives be true, and brave and nol)l(> ! 
The coward fears to die ; exalted souls 
Have higher aims than life alone, to live fir. 
Snch, 0, my friends, be ours. Then, follow me, 
In God we trust, and love is victory ! 

ALL. 

[Jirandishing their swords. 

In God we trust, and love is victory ! 

[Exit rapidly. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 



SCENE II. 

Tlie room, used at the end of Act II. gustave pacing to and 
fro ; his arms pinioned. An armed negro guarding the door. 

GUSTAVE. — (solus.) 

Avaunt ! perfidious image of my dreams ! 
Hoping against all hope, my heart still grasps 
At phantoms of the air. Avaunt, I say ! 
Was ever such a deed of shame ! A woman 
Feigns every dear, bewitching test of love, 
Aping the holiest feelings of the soul, 
And then, within her lover's very arms, 
Conceives a horrid plot for his destruction ! 
Oh, Tonie ! Tonic ! and couldst tJiou do this ? 
Thou ? for whose sake I gladly would have died ! 
Ah, couldst thou harbor in thy breast a crime 
So foul, so vile as this ? — It can not be ; 
Nay, nny ! The scope of such a direful shame 
Would stretch beyond the bounds of humoi, 

nature, 
And, like the universe, be limitless ! 
To such a lofty peak of villainy 
No mortal woman ever dared to climb I 



66 WILD FLOlVERS. 

Could such things be, forsootli, 'twere perilous 

To lavish fondness on a turtle dove ; 

The i)erfuine of tlie lily would be poison ; 

A lamb, the symbol of inhuman hate, 

And lu'll were fair^-r tlian the courts of heaven! 

Nay, Tonie, nay ! Thy happy innocence 

Was no disguise, assumed but to decieve me ; 

No vi})er in the roses of thy lips 

Lies curled, to taint their" honey-dew with poison! 

Thy }iarting words came from a faithful heart — 

I caimot understand, but I will trust thee 1 

HOANGO. 

I Entering, aihlresies: the sentinel. 

Go down into the yard, and there await me ; 
The prisoner needs no guard ; he dies to-day ! 

[Exit sentirteL 
Turning to oustave.] 

Well, stranger ! art thou pleased with San Do- 
mingo ? 
How dost thou like our hospitality? 
We treat you fellows kindly, do we not? 
Ha! ha! ha! 

GUSTAVE. 

For shame ! To mock a prisoner ! 



THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 67 

HOANGO. 

Egad ! 'tis all tlicat tl.ou deservest, Frenchman ! 

Did not thy wretched, boastful race declare 

That we, despised, degraded blacks would fall 

Like leaves before the whirling hurricane. 

Should we but dare to raise our hands against you, 

Or fail to serve you like submissive slaves ? 

Nay, hell and fury ! do it if ye can ! 

Ye shall not and ye can not con(juer us — 

No foreign foot must desecrate our soil ! 

Thou and thy people are foredoomed to perish ; 

Thine, and thy comrades' blood, a sweet libation. 

We pour upon the altars of our gods — • 

Talk not of mercy ! 

GUSTAVE. 

Have I asked for mercy ? 
Our fathers sowed the wi'ong — we reap the fruits ; 
The innocent do suffer for the guilty — 
So goes the world ! If thou wouldst murder me, 
Why, do it, and so spare thy idle boasting, 
0, brave assassin of defenceless men ! 

IIOANGO. 

We care not for tlie rules and grace of war, 

With which ye cut eacli other's throats in Europe ; 

That is the game of kings — we are but slaves. 



68 WILD FLOWERS. 

Extermination, utter and complete, 
To every white wretch living in Domingo, 
TTas l)oen our motto, and shall ever be ! 
The white man's rule is only fit for slanres, 
And Ilayti must be free ! 

( The report of a musket shot is heard. 
-; Another follows in quick succession ; 
( iioANGo, in great excitement. 

ITa ! where was that ? 

BABECAN. 
[Ru^hivrf into the room with a wild scream. 

Hoango ! help ! help ! help ! Wo are betrayed ! 
A troop of Frenchmen have attacked the house ! 
Thy men have been imprisoned in their huts — 
0, hasten, Conjo, ere it be too late ! 
Let thy strong arm disperse tlie knaves ! 

GUSTAVE. — (Aside.) 

Kind heaven ! 
Th(>y are my comrades ; generous, noble friends, 
May God reward the gallant deed I 

HOANGO. 

[Who has rushed to the window, and is looking out of it. 

Damnation ! 
The Frenchmen have possession of tlie yard — 
May swift perdition seize the yelling hounds I 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 69 

BABECAN. 

I hear their footsteps on the stairs ! They come ! 
Oh, save us ere it be too late, Hoango ! 

HOANGO. 

[Brandishing his sabre rushfs upon oustave. 

Die, villain ! Thou, at least, shalt not rejoice 
At my defeat ! 

(As HOANGO is aiming a blow at oostave's head, tonie. ;)tV 
-< tol. in hand, rushes into the room, and perceiving gustavk's 
\_danger, fires at hoanuo, who falls mortally u-oundcd. 

Damnation ! I am shot ! 



GUSTAVE. 

[ With a gesture of intense surprise. 



Tonie 1 



TONIE. 

Gustave ! 



( She rtisheB to gustave, cuts the thongs 
\ that bind him, and they embrace. 

BABECAN. — (Aside.) 
Oh, that I were dead i 

f Colonel STKOMLY, FERDINAND, ADOLPH and 

\ their companions rush into the room. 
STROMLY. 



My son ! 



GUSTAVE. 

Dear friends and comrades, I am free ! 

STROMLY. 

Thank heaven, and yonder smiling angel I 



70 WILD FLOWERS. 

GUSTAVE. 

Tonie! 
j\Iy Itiiivc and darling girl ! My trust in tliee, 
Thank (xod, was nnt in vain ; and tliungh I faik'd 
To conijavliond, in full, tliy itL'crless nature, 
Yet ditl I hope. 

STROMLY. 

[I'uilitinil a' Uif Imdij fi/OOS.ro IIOANGO. 

Is this the 1'anious Oonjo ? 
Wiio slew the monster? 

GUSTAVE. 

Tonie's steady hand 
Sj)Oedfd the fatal hullct ihrou^li his Inart, 
As, blind with ia'j,e and liate, he drew his sword 
To strike nie dead ! 

STROMLY. 

Her courage shames ouv own ! 
Twice liath she saved thee from destruction, Gus- 
tave. 

TON IE. 

( Walks sinwiy up tn mnECAN, who slatids, with 
iiirrrtfd fiicf, ill t'lr rfiir nf tlir fjroiij) mutter' 
l^ini/; slie touches her with her linml. 

Oh. mother curse us not! I C!)uld not help it! 

BABECAX. 

Away, ungniteful wietch ! and touch me not! 
If curses are as deathless as my hate. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 71 

Bo tlie eternity of licU thy portion ! 

Go with these knaves, thou traitress ! and forget 

Thy wronged, tliy outcast mother, and her shame ; 

But mark me! ye shall not escape my wrath — 

A phantom of ineffable despair, 

Of woe and vengeance unai)peasahle, 

My ghost shall haunt ye, wheresoe'er ye go ! 

The grass shall wither noath your feet, the skies 

Shall drop a blighting i)oisou on your heads, 

Your children shall be 

TONIE. 
[StruggUng to place her Imnd on babecan's mouth. 

Mother ! mother ! hush ! 

BABECAN. 

[Thrusting TONIE aside violently. 

Away ! ye cannot triumith over me — 
Thus Babecan defies her foes ! 

(Sidiivgthe nclinn to the word.', daufcan plunges 
< a (laf/qer. which she had hidden in her clothing, 
(into Iter breast, and/alls. 

TONIE. 

[With a scream drof $ upon her mother''s body. 

My mother ! . 

r All rush to the spot, and nusTAVE attempts to raise 
< BABrc vy 8 hrad ; while doing w-, 'he 'niter makes a 
( feeble attempt to stab hint, and with a groan, eipires. 

GUSTAVE. 

[Endeavoring to raife Tojtip tendtrly from her mother's corpse. 

Tonie ! 



72 WILD FLOWERS. 

STROMLT. 

Disturb her not, but let her weep ! 
Such tears become her true and k)vin<:j licart ; 
With them she buries what was once her mother ! 

EDUARD. 

\BaMXy entering the ronm. 

Father ! brothers ! comrades all, good news ! 

Tidings of joy to crown your victory ! 

'Twas grand — I know it all ! But hear me friends, 

The enemy is moving to the west. 

At some point concentrating all his forces, 

The highway is deserted ; we can reach 

Cape Francois unmolested by to-night ; 

The forest stretches nearly to the city ; 

A path, which I discovered in my scout, 

Will take us straightway to Fort Rochambeau. 

STROMLY. 

My hand, brave boy, for thy most welcome tidings ! 
We taste the sweet fruition of our hopes ; 
Let us away, my friends ! One effort more, 
And soon our happy homes beyond the sea. 
Will greet us once again, where we may rest. 
Safe from the carnage, and the toils of war. 



THE MAID OF SAN-DOM J A GO. 7i 

GUSTAVE. 

[Raising TOyiE and fondly embracing her. 

Come, Tonie, come ! To thee I owe my life — 
To thee will I devote it. Follow me ! 
Be my companion to love's blissful shores ; 
Beneath the shelter of her blissful bowers 
Shall angels crown us with immortal flowers, 
The happy guerdon of our constancy. 

TONIE. 

[Weeping and resting her head upon otTSTAVE's armvlder. 

Saved, Gustave, saved ! Thou art forever mine ! 
'Tis all I ask— 

STROMLY. 

[Approaching them, and joining their hands. 

For earth and heaven are thine ! 

[Addressing the audience. 

See ! love and faith have gained the victory — 
•'Trust God and fear not" shall their motto be ! 

The Curtain FuUs. 



WILD FLOWERS. 



OREETIKO. 

17u brook, whose vmsic chanM the dell, 
Wakes, in our dreaming mimls, 

An echo of the nobler shell 
The mighty Sea-god winds ; 

So mail my harp, th<ur;h faint and rud$ 

The music of (7.v strings, 
Wake echoes of the True and Oood 

Of which the Master sings. 

The Queen of Spring, who twines the rote 

Around her golden-locks. 
Smiles on the crocus in the snows, 

The violet liy the rocks ; 

7'Am.«, though no rose of Poesy 

Be in the wreath I wind, 
I, in its place, would tender thee 

These Wild Flovers of the mind. 



WILD FLOWERS. 



VOICES OF THE SPRINQ. 

FIRST VOICE, 

OVER the mountains and over the delli, 

Griory is breaking ; 
Llelody sweeter than murmur of bells, 

Softly is waking. 

SECOND VOICE. 

Fountains leap, 

Rivers sweep, 

Singing to the smiling main. 

THIRD VOICE. 

Torrent rills 

Shake the hills, 

Brooks with silver braid the plain. 

FOURTH VOICE. 

"Whence cometh this bliss of earth and sea ? 

Who calleth this sweet joy forth ? 
Whose power hath bidden the winter to flee ? 

What fairy queen ruleth the earth ? 



78 WILD FLOWERS. 

FIFTH VOICE. 

The Spring ! 

CHORUS. 

Hail, beautiful Spring 1 

THE WIND SPIRIT, 

My pinions, fledged on southern seas, 
And bright with dews, o'er the world I wave ; 
I waft the sweet sound of trumpeting bees, 
I fondle the flowers, I toy with the trees; 
With shout and with laughter 
I follow swift after 
Coy Echo, and chase her afar from her cave. 

I whistle in the tree-tops, 

I sigh amid the grass ; 

I breathe in artless lovers' ears 

Sweet fancies as they pass ; 

I scatter fragrance, and I bear 

The cloud-shaped wonders of the air 

Through heaven upon my viewless wings ; 

The woodland's holy hush I break 

With chime of lily-bells, or wake 
The mighty pine-harp's sad. sonorous strings; 

I do it with love, I do it with lear — 



WILD FLOWERS. 79 

CHORUS. 

Because the Spring, the queen of earth, is here, 

THE RAIN SPIRIT. 

From the rose's and the violet's lip, 
And the chalice of nameless blooms, that dip, 
Their tresses bright in the meadow rills ; 
From the lake that lies in the pathless hills ; 
From gulf and bay, and rolling river, 
And fi'om the sea — 
The moon-chained sea, 
The blind, black monster that moaneth forever — 
I gather the showers that nourish the flowers. 
And water the woods, and ripen the fruits, 
And woo sweet grain from tha throbbing plain. 

CHORUS. 

The rain ! the rain ! sing the Rain, 
And bless the merry spring-time that bringeth it 
again 1 

THE SUN. 

Nearer to earth, nearer to earth and her people, 
Spring's irresistible power, my chariot hath drawn ; 
Brighter the flame, flashing from tower and steeple. 
Marking my going at twilight, my coming at 



80 WILD FLOWERS. 

Lovelier the clouds, laughingly seeking to shroud me, 
Bluer the firmament where in my glory I move, 
Fairer the scenes gliding beneath and around me, 
Moving to music supernal, and vocal with love. 

THE MOON. 

Not like one by darkness overtaken 

In a trackless desert, tempest shaken — 

Lonely, crazed, by every hope forsaken — 

'Round the world I speed ; 

For the winter storms have furled their banners ; 

Broken are their spears ; the horrid clangors 

When their mailed legions meet — 

Death and darkness, snow and sleet — 

Now no longer bid me flee 

Ghostly over land and sea ; 

But on eternal wings of fire 
Majestic stars around me nightly sweep. 

While I with sound of silver lyre. 
Guide Love to earth, and lull the lids of Sleep. 

A vorcE. 
The groves, the streams, the leaping rills, 
The budding meads and radiant hills, 
The reedy pool, the sounding sea. 
Their joy and beauty owe to thee. 



WILD FLOWERS. 8\ 

CHORUS. 

Praise to the Spring for this ! and the immortal 

bliss 
That, murmuring, from the skyey fountain flows, 
When Night unveils her star-bright loveliness, 
And angel-whispers lull the world to sweet repose. 

THE SPRING. 

Spirits and voices of air, of earth and of sea 

Glory to God be given, but not unto me ; 

Out of the fathomless depths of His infinite soul 

T/imitless cycles of ages eternally roll ; 

Backward and forward they sweep, from darkriRss 

to light. 
Swayed by the breath of His mouth, and the arm 

of His might. 
I am a drop in a measureless ocean of years. 
Only an atom, adrift in the light of the spheres. 
Out of the world and its music forever I pass, 
Trackless, and swift as the glinting of sun-litten 

grass ; 
All that I am in beauty, in glory and power, 
Is but the perishing dust of a perishing hour. 
For blessings thank me not — 
God is the giver ! 



82 VOICES OF THE SPRING. 

Ephemeral is my lot, 
I go — and am forgot ; 
The Lord of heaven and earth wi !1 reign forever ! 

CHORUS OF SPIRITS AND VOICES, 

The Lord of heaven and earth shall reign forever ! 

Let heaven and earth in worship blended be ; 
Strike thy sweet harp of song, majestic river ! 

Peal out, ye thunders of the mighty sea ! 
Ye peaks ! that pierce the clouds with golden lances ; 

Ye fiery serpents of the tempest skies ! 
Ye plains ! through which the mountain torrent 
dances ; 
Ye forests ! full of holy mysteries ; 
Ye clouds ! ye everlasting orbs of fire ! 
Awake ! and join the universal choir. 

A VOICE. 

" The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof ; 
The world, and all that dwell therein." 

CHORUS. 

Hearken, all ye people ! sound His praise in sweet 

accord ! 
Wheresoever dwell His creatures, be the Holy One 

adored ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 8S 

FIRST VOICE. 

In the shrines that tell His glory feed the ever- 
lasting flame ! 

SECOND VOICE. 

Lord Jehovah, halleluja ! 

CHORUS. 

Glory ! glory ! to Thy name ! 



8J^ WILD FLOWERS. 



TO A MOCKING BIRD 
Sweet bird ! that from yon dancing spray 
Dost warble forth thy varied lay, 
From early morn to close of day 

Melodious changes singing, 
Sure, thine must be the magic art 
That bids my drowsy fancy start, 
While fi'om the furrows of my heart 

Hope's fairy flowers are springing. 

As changeful as the sounds thy throat 
Sets on the charmed winds afloat, 
Till valleys near and hills remote 

Attest thy peerless powers, 
Have been to me the sights and scenes, 
The cloudy thoughts and starry dreams, 
The winter and the summer gleams 

Of life's ephemeral hours. 
But all thy sad or merry lays, 
Sweet bird ! in thy Creator's praise 



WILD FLOWERS. 86 

Thon pourest from the trembling sprays, 
With love's delicious art ; 

Thus, too, will I, whate'er my fate — 
In sorrow prone, or joy elate — 
To God my being dedicate, 
And give to Him my heart. 



so WILD FLOllKRS. 



EVENING BY THE SEA. 

FROiM THE GEKMAN OF MKlSSNElt. 

Oh, silent sea ! at rest 
Beneath the evening star, 

How sootliing to my breast 
Thy holy breathings are I 

The heart forgets again 

The cares that rack and burn ; 
Its sorrow and its pain 

To music softly turn. 

Yet through the musing mind 
Some pallid woe may flee — 

As glides before the wind 
Yon sail across the sea 1 



WILD FLOWERS. 81 



CHRISTMAS. 



I. 

From palace to the peasant hnt, 

From mountain to the sea, 
When heirs of kings are born, resounds 

The nation's jubilee ! 
From Ind. to isles of Arctic sea8, 

The gladsome tidings ring, 
And all the lands, with hymn and harp, 
Proclaim the infant King ! 
II. 
Purple banners flaunt in air. 
Cannons boom, and trumpets blare ; 
In the steeples, far and near, 
Bravely loud, or softly clear, 
Merry bells on living wing 
Seem to flutter, soar and sing 1 
The roar and shouts 
Of revel-making cities cleave the clouds ; 

The twilight haze 
Glows with the flick'ring bonfire's lurid blaze ; 
And, on the stellar deeps of ambient air. 
Their crests of rainbow light the rockets rear. 



8S WILD FLOWERS. 

III. 
But when, from Eden-bowers descending, 

The glory of the Godhead came, 
And all the harps of heaven were blending 

Hosannas to Jehovah's name ; 
When, twixt the sky and earth, the gleaming 

Of seraph pinions lit the night. 
And Bethle'm's star, sublimely beaming, 

Declared the Lord to prophet's sight, 
No herald trumpet's loud fanfaring, 

No thunder peal of festal gun. 
No kingly banners' golden flaring, 

No martial plume, no rack of drum, 
No chime of bells, no incense cloudward roll'd, 
The solemn birthday of the Saviour told ! 

IV. 

They found him in his manger-cradle sleeping. 

The holy Son of God — in mortal guise ; 
A child of earth, Ibredoom'd to woe and weeping, 

And yet a King — the Prince of earth and skies \ 
No silken robe, no jewel'd cestus 'twined him, 

No lulling strains of music charm'd his ear, 
Yet all the glory of the world enshrined him ! 

And all the singing hosts of heaven were near ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 89 



V. 



They heard it not, the angel anthem : 

" Glory to God ! good will to man ! " 
That through the si^irit-realms of ether 

In bursts of tremulous rapture ran ; 
They saw it not, the awful splendor 

Through Zion's golden streets that pour'd, 
When erst the herald trumps of Heaven 

Proclaimed the coming of the Lord I 



VI. 



Unheeded were the voices 

Of prophets, and of seers. 
Who read the wond'rous omens 

Of the unfolding years, 
And, with celestial visions raptur'd, strove 
To teach the purpose of Almighty Love. 
For earth was dark, and blindness 

Had sealed the souls of men ; 
The night of baleful ages 

Begirt, and burden'd them ; 
No starry ray serene the darkness broke, 
To light the heart with Heaven's immortal hope. 



90 WILD FLOWERS. 

VII. 

Hallelujah to God ! f(i>r the tidings that came 
When seraphs descended on Bethlehem's plain, 
And low, in a manger, the Holy One lay : 
"Who taketh the sins of the world away" ! 

VIII. 

To the Lord of Sabaoth ! the Heavenly King ! 

Let the sweet harp of Zion eternally ring ! 

The Light of the world that came down from the 

skies, 
Dispelling the gloom of our mortal eyes. 

IX. 

The crucified Jesus ! for sinners slain ; 
The Godhead, whose glory the heavens proclaim 1 
The Friend of the lowly ! the guide of the lost, 
The Father ! the Son ! and the Holy Ghost 1 

X. 

Then let the voice of nations 

In choral hymns aspire ! 
Wake in His Holy temples 

The Spirit's sacred fire ! 
In lioniiige of the dawning 

Of earth's divinest day, 
When in the stall at Bethlehem 

The infant Jesus lay ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 91 



GKADUATING HYMN. 

With yearning hearts we turn to gaze 

On paths our feet have lately trod, 
That lead, in wisdom's flowery maze, 

" Through nature up to nature's God" ; 
How wide the pleasing prospect lies 1 

A fairy realm of boundless scope, 
Where Life, beneath unclouded skies, 

Lies dreaming in the lap of Hope. 

And now, with slow, reluctant hand 

We drop the curtain of the past, 
And glide from childhood's golden strand 

Into an ocean, dim and vast — 
A sea, whose solemn billows chime 

The music of supernal spheres. 
And holds within its breast sublime, 

The garnered treasure of the year. 

Thou, to whom creation pays 
Eternal homage ! grant us still 



WILD FLOWERS. 

Thy loving care in all our ways, 
And guide us by Thy holy will ; 

Teach us the wisdom of the skies, 
The lore, from guile and error free, 

By which the spirit gains the prize 
Of blissful immortality I 



WILD FLOWERS. 93 



BEAUTIFUL STAR OF EVENING. 

SERENADE SONG. 
I. 

Beautiful star ! whose golden beams 
Kindle the light of lovers' dreams ; 
Fairest of jewels that gem the skies — 
Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! 

Over the brim, 

Distant and dim, 
Of the faintly-sighing sea, 

Soft as a kiss, 

Brimful of bliss, 
Murmuring westwinds herald thee. 

CHORUS. 

Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! 
Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; 
Crown with thy light our trysting tree — 
Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. 



94 WILD FLOWERS. 

II. 

Beautiful star ! thy presence brings 
Beauty and peace, on holy wings ; 
Under the spell of thy blissful beam 
Time is an angel's fairest dream ! 

Waiting for thee, 

Over the lea 
Summer fjays. in mazy roats 

Merrily trip. 

Seeking to sip 
Dew from the blooming sun-set clouds. 

CHORDS. 

Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! 
Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; 
.Crown with thy light our trysting tree — 
Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. 
III. 

Beautiful star ! the nightingale 
Deep in the gloom of grove and dale, 
Voiceless flutters from bough to bough, 
Waiting the glint of thy golden brow ; 

Even so we. 

Dreaming of thee, 
Wait to see thy sacred flame 



WILD FLOWERS. 

Beaming delight 
Over the night, 
Waiting the voice of Love's sweet pain ! 

CHORUS. 

Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! 
Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; 
Crown with thy liglit our trysting tree — 
Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. 



WILD FLOWERS. 



VIOLETS. 

Visible spirits of light and hope ! 

Beautiful bairns of the sky ! 
Bless\l be the elfin, whose music broke 

The sleep of your azure eye, 
When first the sighing south-wind woke, 
And S})ring was nigh. 

Morning-star heralds of dawning spring ! 

Sprites of the young years' dream ! 
Not in the clamorous city's din — 

The realm of the Titon, steam — 
Your fragrance scents the zephyr's wing 
Your bright eyes beam ; 

In the deep shadow of woodland glens ; 

On the bright brink of the rills ; 
Decking with azure and golden chains 

The breasts of the royal hills — 
'Tis there ye sweetest charm the sense, 
Fair miracles ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 91 

Hidden, like pearls in the ocean caves, 

Slowly your beauties expand ; 
Dreaming, though wildly the winter wind rives, 

Of spring, and her magic wand. 
Whose touch can change a waste of graves 
To Fairy-land I 



9S WILD FLOWERS. 



GLOOM AND GLORY. 

All without is dai'k and dreary, 
And against my window pane 

Sadly, like a spirit weary 
Of its purgatorial chain, 
Taps the ghastly autumn rain. 

On the dark, dead moor are crawling 
Cloud-shapes, cold and serpentine ; 

Dense the with'ring leaves are falling ; 
And from out the tarn's green slime 
Rings the crane's threnodic rhyme. 

In the air the tempest jjoises. 
Ruin on his whirring wings ; 

Birds have hushed their blithsome voices ; 
And the naiads of the springs 
Rend their wild harps' sweetest strings. 

Forests robed in faded glory 

Moan, and chide the sunless day ; 
Rivers hasten on before me 



WILD FLOWERS. 09 

Into darkness ; far away 

Glide the sea waves, ashen gray ; 

For the summer's heart is broken, 
Crushed, and crownless now she lies ; 

Earth's majestic harp hath woken 
Eequiem strains and symphonies ; 
Heaven in sorrow drapes the skies. 

Ah, ye ghostly glooms about me ! 
Chilling rain, and blurring blast ! 

How your dreadful shadows shroud me, 
Drag me down, and chain me fast 
To the foul, accursed specter of the past ! 

Who careth for rain, for the ghostly rain 
That the sad, bleak autumn briiigeth ? 

Or the cry of pain in the tempest's strain ? 
Or the knell that the forest ringeth ? 
Let nature tear her golden hair. 
And winnow with phantom wings the air, 

And utter her cries till the pitying skies 

Grow sad, and unveil not their radiant eyes ! 
Why care for the death of the fair ? 

Why care for the glory, that passeth 
With the beautiful summer away, 



100 WILD FLOWERS. 

And is lost, like the voice of the river, 
Kushing by with its hillows <;ray ? 

If the heart hath its sumnier within it 
Need it care for the winter without ? 

Need the soul, lit with sunliglit infinite, 
Fear the gloom of a passing cloud ? 

A cheerful lu art in sorrow, 
A hapi)y soul in death ; 
A life whose iairest crowning 
Is love, and hope, and f;iith : 
These are things wliich are fairer than weather 

Wherein hasketli the lush rose of June, 
More sweet than the honey of heather! 

More rare than the Niglitingale's tune! 
Nor miss -vVe the music of summer 

If Heaven's sabhath-harp, in our breast 
We can wake, from its passionless rest, 
To soothe tlie rapt soul into slumber, 
With golden-rhymed dreams without number 
Of the fair summer-land of the blest ! 



WILD FLOWERS. lOl 



LOVE IN ABSENCE. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF WIELAND. 

By the river's silent waters 
Oit I sit in lonely woe, 
And I measure by the flow 

Of tlie weary waves, tlie moments 
Since we parted long ago. 

Of tliee al<ine I jionder 

My own, my only love ! 
When, aimless, forth I wander 

Through field, and dell, and grove. 

At every murmur 

Among the branches, 
At every pinion 

That Avhirrs and glances, 
How throbs my heart 
With hnpo again ! 

But when for days and weeks 

My spirit waits and seeks — 
How deep the pain ! 



102 WILD FLOWERS. 



TO CARL S. H. 

ONE YKAU OLD. 

Bright as the ocean's glancing spraj, 

When full-orbed sliines the cloudless moon ; 

Blithe as the linn; t's winsome lay 
Among the golden groves of June ; 

Fair as the lily-wreathed elves, 

Who shy from tarn and fountain })eep ; 

Pure as the pearl the diver delves 
From Ceylon's coral-circled deep ; 

So bright and blithe, so pure and fair. 
And graced with light and loveliness, 

But, ah, a thousand times more dear ! 
Sweet child ! thou seemest unto us. 

Since love's celestial law decreed 

O'er mind and heart that thou shouldst reign, 
Twelve moons have tracked with silver feet, 

The starry paths of heaven again ; 



WILD FLOWERS. 103 

Four seasons, circling grandly slow 

Around the glory-giving sun, 
Have kindled earth with beauty's glow, 

Or bade its days of darkness come ; 

But who would note the season's change, 
Or stop to count Time's flying hours, 

If that they leave us in their range 
Memorials of their kinder powers ; 

Some germ, or bud, or blossom blown 
On breath of angels from the skies, 

That give to cottage, or to throne, 
The redolence of paradise. 

Dear Carl ! thy merry tongue, whose chimes 
Like ringing fountains woo the ear. 

Thy tiny footsteps' pleasant rhymes, 
Have marked for us the parted year ; 

And what or dark or bright hath been 
By heaven apportioned as our share. 

Lost in thy smile its gloomy mien. 

Or through thy presence seemed more fair. 

Thank God for this ! thank God for all I 
It is enough to know that He, 



KU WILD FLOWERS. 

Who marks the sparrow's silent fall, 
Will give his dearer love to thee — 

A love that will forever wake 

To guide, and watch thy onward wa}', 
A love that never will forsake 

Thy brightest or thy darkest day 1 



WILD jp LOWERS, 105 



IDA. 

Like the mnsic-breathing motion 
Of some odor-haunted ocean 

In the golden orient, 
Where the swift sails' silken gleaming; 
May affright the mermaid, dreaming 

On the waters scintillant, 

Moves thy form of airy lightness, 
Through the world, in starry brightness, 

Every gesture breathing grace, 
While the sighing breezes woo thee, 
And the roses veil their beauty 

In the presence of thy face. 

Lustrous are thy tAvining tresses, 
And thy shyly-fond caresses, 

When thou bendest over me, 
Wreathe them round my pallid temples 
With a wavey light, that trembles 
Soft as star-shine on the sea. 



wo tViLD FLOWERS, 

Rose of beauty ! Wondrous being 1 
May the hand of the All-seeing 
Ever keep thee as thou art, — 
In thy spirit-glory, rarer, 
And in glowing graces fairer, 
Than a dream of poet's heart I 



WILD ^LOWERS, 101 



BEATRICE. 

Summer air ! Summer air ! Soft is tliv breathino-. 

Sweet as the sighing of love's rosy mouth ; 
Bringing, on pinion of velvet, kind greeting 
Fresh from the heart of the odorous south ; 
Fragrance magnolian, 
Music feolian, 
Heralds thy presence, oh, golden-tongued sprite ! , 
Leads out my heart to thee, blessed and holy one, 
Ravishing soul of the star-litten night ! 

Summer air ! Summer air ! is it the dripping, 

Silver-clear dripping of dew-drops I liear ? 
Or are the echoes of angel feet, tripping 

Earthward from star to star, haunting my ear ? 
Sj)irit invisible ! 
Wonderful miracle ! 
Memnon-tongued fay of the star-litten night ! 
Tell me, ah ! truly tell, whether siderial 
Spirits invisible round us do glide ? 



lOS WILD FLOWERS. 

Summer air 1 Summer air ! thou growest chilly, 

Vexing my soul with inodorous gloom— 
Lo ! in her cerements, pallid and stilly, 
Floating with stony stare under the moon, 
Hither a maiden fair 
Drifts, on the starry air, 
Floating away to the Stygian wave ;— 
Oh. thou sad summer air ! why do thy pinions bear 
]\L.nu'ries of love's despair— ghosts from the grave ? 



WILD FLOWERS. 109 



DREAMS. 

Oh, happy dreams of by-gone hours ! 

Oh, smiling hopes, now dead and cokl I 
Despoiling time of half his flowers. 

And changing dross to shining gold ! 
How sweetly still the merry chimes, 

Which rang your balmy birth-morn in, 
Steal through the chords, and mould the rhymes 

Of memory's vesper hymn ! 

So glory flames from mountain tops 

When misty darkness veils the lea, 
And Night her silver anchor drops 

Into the waveless western sea ; 
So tender echo still inspires 

The harj)'s sweet chords with music's thiill, 
Though the loved hand that touched the vviies. 

In death lies cold and still. 

Oh, sun-bright youth ! how swiftly steals 
Thy vernal glory from the heart, 



D'^J 



110 WILD PLOtVERS. 

And manhood's lengthening shade reveals 
The mocking phantom that thou art ! 
Oh, soaring, ringing, dawn-light dreams ! 

Whose song and beauty filled tlie skies. 
Why have you dropped your golden wings 

And closed your radiant eyes ? 

As snow-flakes melt, and blossoms wither, 

As night succeeds the glowing day, 
So hopes that smile, and dreams that glitter. 

In gloom and sadness pass away ; 
And like a "wounded life" we creep 

Where earth's bewildering pathways wind. 
Till in the grave's untroubled sleep, 

Sweet rest and peace we find. 



WILD FLOWERS. Ill 



CANZONET. 

Oh, the sweet witchery of thine eyes 
No more prevails, no more prevails ! 

In lifeless swoon my spirit lies, 

As under joyless winter skies 
The life of summer dales. 

Oh, once thy golden month did breathe 
In tones so sweet, in tones so low, 

My spirit bloomed thy spell beneath 

As flowers bloom, upon the heath 
When sunny May winds blow ! 

But golden mouth, and witching eyes, 

Have lost their spell, have lost their spell ! 
Since on the sweet lip poison lies, 
And treason blinds the luring eyes 
Ot her I loved so well 1 



112 WILD J^ LOWERS, 



CHRISTMAS CHIME. 

The Christ is bom ! lucanuate son of Glory ! 

Messiali ! King ! anointed Lord of earth ! 
Once more the workl, to-day, repeats the story, 

Till' wondrous story of His sacreil l)irtli. 

Do ye not hear the heaveidy anthem, swelling 
From snn-kiss'd hill, and musie-mnrmuring glen ? 

Are not the blithesome bells "glad tidings" telling: 
" Peace be on earth, and good will toward men " ? 

The star of Bethlehem, in mystic splendor, 
To faith's prophetic eye again appears ; 

Its holy light grown more divinely tender 
In the long lapse of eighteen hundred years. 

liVcn as upon the blest Judcan mountains 
A radiant halo fell, from cloven shies, 

And shepherds, resting by their pasture fountains. 
Beheld the seraph hosts of Paiadise, 

So shineth still the light of love, unending, 
Serene and pure upon om* pilgrim way, 



WILD FLOWERS. 113 

And herald angels, from the skies descending, 
Proclaim the Lord as on his natal day. 

Oh, holy light of Christ ! Diviner splendor 

Than full-orhed sheen of all the heavenly spheres ! 

Accept the soulful homage that we tender, 

And God-ward guide us through our mortal 
years. 



m WILD FLOWERS, 



TO A PwOSE. 

FROM THE GERMAN. 

I AND YOU, sweet queen of flowers ! 

Nature's happy bosom bears, 
Quicken'd by her mighty powers 
Through an endless lapse of years. 

Beauty wanes, and waxeth hoary, 
Storms will scatter me and you — 

But our deathless germ of glory 
Soon its blossom shall renew. 



WILD FLOWERS, 115 



MOTHER AND CHILD. 

A FAIR, bright child, sweet as the youngest rose 
Born of the laughing spring, lay on his couch. 
And gazed upon the sky. Beside him stood 
His sore-afflicted mother, and her eyes, 
Drooping, and dark with tears of silent i)ain. 
Looked down upon his face. Her soft white hand. 
As if to shield from some impending blow 
Her precious boy, lay on his lustrous curls ; 
Th3 other pressed her own sad heart. Alas ! 
Insatiate Death again had singled out 
The fairest of the flock to be his prey, 
And came to bear his trophy to the giave. 
Merciless tyrant ! Can no tears beguile 
Thy heedless heart ? no prayer delay thy hand ? 
Have not the stars of many a weary night 
Dimm'd their bright faces with the motluTs's 

tears ? 
Has not the pitying spirit of the wind, 
Poising his pinions in the midnight sky, 



im WILD FLOWERS. 

Huslied his weird music to a dirgv-like strain? 
Alas, that Deatli can be so merciless ! 
Upon his icy hand the warmest tears 
Love weeps in lier divinest woe, con'!;cal, 
And all onr prayers rise vainly, and are lost 
Like harp tunes in the desert winds. 

The child 
Gazed at the sky, on which the parting nnn, 
From ont the lap of rose-emhowering- clouds, 
Licessant glory ponretl, when, lo ! a smiU^ 
l)impl( s the waxin cheek ; his dreamful eye, 
Willi star -like gliutiiig Hashes sweet suri)rise 
And Hoods of rapture seem to whelm his soul ; 
Speech, that had lain in blissful silence long. 
Or, lik(^ a bee immersed in snmmer sweets. 
With drowsy murmurs c>nly charmed the air, 
To tremulous music gathering on his tongue, 
At last the red lips cleft, and thus he cried : 
" Oh, mother look ! look there ! " and then he said 
" See how the angels beckon me to come ! 
On yonder clouds they stand, their golden wings 
All folded till I come. Last night they came 
Here to my bed, when I was all alone, 
And then they told me that a golden crown, 



WILD FLOWERS. Ill 

And golden harp awaited me in heaven, 
And they would soon retiwn to take me there. 
Dear mother, have they come ? Oh, let me go !" 
The tiny hand, which eagerly had sought 
To clasp the mother's arm imploringly. 
Fell softly back, and like a snow-flake lay 
Gleaming beside him. Gently o'er the eyes 
Drooi^'d the dark lashes, glistening with tears. 
And like some flower that meek and silently 
Bows to the road -side dust its shining crown. 
Bruised unto death by some ungentle hand, 
So passed this blossom from the earth away. 

From that dear head, (which now no more would 

need 
The tender soothing of a mother's touch), 
Slowly her hand the weeping mother drew. 
And, kneeling close beside the silent couch, 
God's holy benediction fell upon her. 

And years have passed since o'er her darling's form 
The dark grave closed ; full many a fragrant 

flower 
Has sprung to greet the singing summer days, 
Or blent its faded glory with his dust ; 



118 WILD FLOWERS. 

But still, as day upon his fianiing car 

KoUs through the closing portals of the west, 

And twilight glimmers over land and sea, 

This mother's eyes, with dreamy glance will scan 

Tlie pnrpling heavens, and watch the fading clouds 

Waste their ephemeral splendors on the air ; 

And as her fancy's busy fingers weave 

The black and golden threads of life together, 

A shape will flit athwart the dying sun, 

Celestial glory flashing on the sight, — 

The angel-image of her happy child 

That passed at sunset through the gates of Heaven. 



WILD FLOWERS. 119 



05 



WANDERING. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. 

UDder the trees I'll rest me, here 

Where the warblhip; birds are swinging 
Piping the notes to my heart so dear — 
Sweet birds ! that seem my soul to bear 
Away, with tlieir dreamy singing. 

To yonder brook's side I'll rejDair, 

And rest 'mid the blooms and cl)ver; 
Sweet flowers ! that bloom like my absent fair, 
Greetings and tokens of love ye bear 
To the heart of her wanderin-^ lover I 



120 WILD FLOWERS, 



CARL. 

ADDRESSED TO MY INFANT SON. 

Carl ! there is something in the name that rings 
Like the rude music of strange Runic rhymes, 
Blent with the sough of sea-ward facing pines, 

That erst did greet the ocean's merry kings, 
The Gorms and Alvars of the old Norse times : 

x\nd hence I love it ; as I love the dash 
And roar of waters in wild mountain glens 
Or the weird voices of the elements, 

When wind, and rain, and thunders whirl and 
crash. 
And hissing lightnings Si3ring from cloudy dens. 

A name 'twould seem, scarce meet for thee to hear. 
My gentle child, my own, my dark-eyed boy ! 
Song of my soul ! my bosom's perfect joy ! 

Thou, like the dainty May bells, frail and fair, 
Whom a rude touch would wither and destroy. 



WILD FLOWERS. 121 

Yet they who bore it hi the days of eld 

Werp men of prowess, staunch and sturdy 

wights ; 
Bold Bayards of the sea, King Arthur Knights ; 

Heroes, that bore from Iceland to the Sclieldt, 
Victorious bamiers through a thousand figlits ; — 

And such as they were would I have thee be. 
My boy ! when grown to manhood's proud estate, 
In all its strength and nobleness arrayed. 

Thou enterest life's arena eagerly, 

With bounding pulse, and heart with hope elate ; 

But not for glory, conquest, spoils and fame. 
As did these ancient rovers of the seas, 
Fling thou thy banner to the stormy breeze ;^- 

Glory like theirs is but immortal shame. 
And taints the womb of ages with disease ; 

Live thou a life thy Saviour will approve, 

When God's dark angel. Death, shall call thcc- 

hence ; 
Be thou the champion of fair innocence, 

Be true as steel to honor and to love, 

And for the right a stalwart, sure defense ; 



122 WILD FLOWERS. 

And if thou fallest in the fearful strife, 
Fall like a hero — face-ward to the foe ! 

God's liHes on thy peaceful grave will blow. 
And from the ashes of thy fruitful life 

Th' immortal germs of truth shall spring and 
<rrow. 



WILD FLOWERS. 123 



IDA. 

She sleeps ! The rosy-lidded eyes 

Droop with the weight of golden dreams ; 
Upon her face a beauty lies 
Bright as the tint of summer skies, 
And fair as starlight beams. 

Breathe low, ye happy spirits all 

That haunt the love-lit twilight hours ! 

Let all your sounds be musical. 

And tender as the silken fall 
Of fairy feet on floAvers. 

How soft her bosom sinks and swells. 
Moved by her pulse's rythmic flow ! 
Thus, in the heart of dreamy dells, 
The south- wind sways the lily bells 
Through summer's blissful glow. 

Ye sylphs ! that love the morning's beam. 

And fill with lucent dew the rose. 
Heed not the day-dawn's bright'ning gleam — 



/?4 WILD FLOWERS. 

For oh ! a heaven of fairer sheen 
Those lids will soon disclose 1 

Like this sweet sleep may death appear, 

And press thy weary eye-lid.; down, 
When harping angels gather near, 
And Christ, upon thy forehead fair, 
Shall place His heavenly crown. 



WILD FLOWERS, 125 



THE JUDGMENT DAY. 

The world with all its wond'rous frame, 
Rent to the core, and wrapped in flame, 
Jehovah ! must Thy will obey. 
And perish in that awful day. 
Like dews dissolving in the rills 
Shall pass away the pillar'd hills ; 
Like mists upon the morning breeze 
Shall fade the earth-encircling seas ; 
Lilie cloud -born meteors of the night 
Nations shall vanish from the sight ; 
And at the angel's trumpet call 
The silver spheres of heaven shall fall. 

Thou Lord of love ! eternal God ! 
When worlds have perished at Thy nod 
And all their dead shall rise, and come 
For judgment to Thine awful throne, 
Oh, give that in the hapi)y band 
Of ransomed spirits I may stand ! 
Free from all fear of mortal sin, — 
Companion of the cherubim ! 



JS6 WILD FLOWERS. 



AUTUMN. 
Autumn's dreary days are coming ; 
Rough the river waves are running ; 
Winds their tempest-harps are strumming 

And the skies look bleak and gray. 
As the forest swa}'s and surges, 
From its depths and from its verges, 
Requiem songs and moanful dirges. 

Loudly mourn the lifeless day. 

Like the leaves that -wiithc and shiver 
On the brink of yonder river, 
As if loth to sink forever 

In its waters, cold and gray, 
So our summer days of dreaming, 
When the spirit shapes its scheming, 
By its love-star's mystic beaming, 

From the he.art are rent awa}-. 

But the season's frowning features 
Serve the heart as holy preachers ; 



WILD FLOWERS. 127 

They are God's appointed teachers, 

Sent by Him to me and you ; 
And they teach the mystic meaning 
Of the soul's divinest dreaming, 
Teach a Hfu which is not seeming, 

Point to skies forever blue I 



L,3 WILD FLOWERS. 



YOU. 

There is a star, of all the stars 

In Luna's radiant crest, 
On which our gaze more fondly dwells, 

Whose light we love the best. 

There is a flower, of all the flowers 
The hlissiul spring unfolds, 

Whose dearer name within our hearts 
The place of honor holds. 

There is a hope, of all the hopes 
Tliat wave their rainbow wings, 

To which, until its glory fa<les, 
The spirit' closest clings. 

There is a love, of all the love 

Beneath the smiling sun, 
Our fancy deems the deaiest still, 

The sweetest — lost or w^on ! 

The brightest star, the fairest flower — 

If what I sing be true — 
The sweetest hope, the dearest love 
Are you ! 



ti^/ZP FLOWER 3. M9 



FALLING STARS. 

FKOM THE GERMAN OF SALLET. 

Oh, know ye not the mocining 
When swiftly earthward flics 

Some silv^er star, whose beaming 
Refulgent, lit the skies ? 

Yon stars, above us shining, 
With light so wondrous fair, 

Bright wreaths of glory twining, 
Ten thousand angels are. 

As God to these hath given 
The sleeping world in charge, 

Around the walls of heaven 
With watchful eyes they march ; 

And when on earth below them 
Some struggling soul they see, 

Which all its wounds would show them 
And in humility, 



ISO WILD FLOWERS. 

For heavenly help is pleading, 
And rest from earthly woe, 

Thou'lt see an angel speeding 
On starry wings below ! 

Upon the mourner's pillow 

Celestial glory beams ; 
He stills the raging billow ; 

He soothes the heart with dreams ! 

This is the holy meaning 
When swiftly earthward flies 

Some silver star, whose- beaming 
Refulgent, lit the skies ! 



IVJLD FLOWERS. 131 



THE SEASONS, a cantata. 

SPRING. 

I am Spring, merry Spring ! 

Daughter of the sun and earth ; 
Happy creatures everywhere 

Hail my heavenly birth. 

Forests murmur, fountains sing, 

Rivers tuneful flow, 
And the smiling hours crown me 

Queen of all below ! 

SUMMER. 

Wreathed with roses and fair lily-bells, 

Crowned with a star-crown of dew, 
Singing glad songs in the echoing dells, 

Summer brings blessings to you ! 

Under the pale, golden light of my moons, 

Grather, with song and with glee ; 
Beauty and love should be crown'd with my blooms, 

Crown them in honor of me ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 

AUTUMN. 

The pomp of purple hills, the joy 

Of the harvest tit^ld is mine ; 
How sweet the joj'' that can not cloy, 

But makes the soul divine ! 
I rohe the woild in garments rare. 

No monarch such Viath worn ; 
And love to w?.ke the dreaming air 

With the hui'ter's merry horn. 

Oh, hark! uh, hear! what music clear 
On winds of morning floatetl. noar — 

The echoes call ! I can not slay ; 
Hark ! tally ho ! away, away ! 

WINTER, 

I have come, 0, earth ! to hind thee 

In the bondage of my wrath ; 
I have come, again to blind thee 
With a slumber, dark as death ; 

Howling storms shall desolate thee, 
Mighty whirlwinds rack thy frame, 

TiU the vc'y skies upbraid me 
'i; ii' tears of icy rain — 
But in vain ; 
I am winter, fearful winter, 

And I glory in my reign I 



WILD FLOWERS. 133 

CHORUS OF THE SEASONS. 

Praise be to God, th' omnipotent Creator ! 

The Lord of earth and Heaven, the King of 
kings ! 
To whom ascends the praise of mighty nature, 

Whom seraphs guard with sheen of flaming 
wings ! 
He guides the golden spheres' majestic m^otion, 

He l)ids the tempests lash the groaning seas ; 
Hi,s spirit dwells in air, in earth and ocean ; 

He is eternal power! immortal peace! 
Let all His creatures praise the great Jehovah ! 

And glorify the works His hand hath wrought ! 
Let harp and voice, blent with the hymning 
seasons, 

Declare the glory of Eternal God ! 



13 j^ WILD FLOWERS. 



EUMENIE. 

Tender phantoms of the nio^ht ! 
Sprites ! with ])inions star-bedight ! 

Ye, that hide till twilight clones, 

In the lily-bells and roses, 
Ere ye seek, with love's emprise, 
Sweeter rest on maidens' eyes ; 

When with silver wiig ye urge 

Through the gloom your dainty search, 
Bear for me a tho'isand kisses, 
Sighs of love, anc love's caresse* 

To my gold-tress'd, violet eyed 

Eumenie, my darling bride ! 

Slumbering like the seraphim. 

In her chamber, saintly dim. 

Seek her ; touch her golden tresses, 
Press her sealed eyes with kisses, 

"Whisper, "wake sweet Eumenie, 

Love hath sent us unto thee ! " 



tVILD FLOWERS. 135 

And when, radiant as a rose, 
Soft her dewy lips unclose, 

List ye well, with pinions folden, 

To the music flowing golden 
From her dreaming heart, and then, 
Hither swiftly haste again ! 

With the spirit of her dreams, 
And aught else that fairest seems, 

Speed, oh, speed ! through night's dominion 

Faries ! with love-laden pinion, 
And reveal in dreams to me, 
Heart and soul of Eumenie I 



136 WILD FLOWERS. 



LORE-LEY. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 

I KNOW not why sorrow is r ebbing 
My heart of wonted rest ; 

My sleepless soul is throbbing 

With a marvelous tale of the past. 

Cool twilight breezes are blowing, 
And calmly flows the Rhine ; 

The mountain's summit is glowing 
In evening's dying shrine. 

On yonder height sits dreaming 

A maiden wondrous fair ; 
Around her, rare jewels gleaming. 

She combeth her golden liair. 

With a golden comb she combeth 
Her locks of golden hair ; 

A magical song she hummeth — 
A marvelous, potent air. 



WTLD FLOWERS. m 

The spell-bound mariner feareth, 

As his frail boat drifteth by ; 
But, charmed by the syren he heareth, 

He heeds not the danger nigh. 

Methinks, by the wild cry ringing, 
The boat and the boatman are gone ! 

And this, with her marvelous simrino; 
The Lore-Ley hath done. 



tS8 WILD FLOWERS. 



SPRING FLOWERS. 

Welcome ! bright heralds of triumphant spring, 

C'liildren of beauty and eternal life ! 

Heedless of frowning clouds and chilling winds, 

The cruel ministers of winter's reign, 

Ye come, in pride of virgin loveliness, 

To i-race the bridal of the blushing vear. 

The whispers of the silvery, sweet south winds 
Which, fitfully, from out the drifting clouds 
Broke the light slumbers of the dreaming world, 
Brought tidings of your coming, long ago ! 
The bold, brave sun, with passionate yearning, rent 
The pallid cerements that veiled your charms. 
And from the shimmer of his golden spear 
Fast fled the darkness of your death-like trance. 
And lo, ye live ! 

The wanton winds of heaven 
Feast on the incense of yom- balmy lips! 
The loving stars smile on you, and the moon 
Doth lu'ghtly 'vest your forms in robes of light ! 



WILD FLOWERS. 139 

In dusky nooks and dells, to fairies dear, 

When night in royal glory walks the skies ; 

By singing brooks, or in the dim arcades 

Of solemn forests ; on the wind-swept crags 

That breast the white-plumed legions of the deep, 

Jehovah's hand hath placed you ; there to speak 

Love's universal Language, and to wake 

Deep sense of omnipresent Deity 

In human hearts, and lead the musing soul 

To heavenly contemplation. 

Blessed thinsrs ! 
How holy is the light your beauty beams 
Unon the churchyard's mossy sepulchres ; 
Where pensive Love, and unrepining Faith 
With prayer and blessing place 3^ou ; where (he 

winds 
Breatlie melancholy music, and the dews 
That crown your bow'd and clustered heads wilh 

pearls. 
Dissolving, leave rare largess to the dust. 

The grave ! — alas, can all the wondrinis wealth 
Imperial nature from her golden horn 
Pours in the lap of the rejoicing earth, 
Make us forget the 'horrent front of death ? 



lJf.0 WILD FLOWERS. 

The voiceless terror of wide-yawning graves ? 
Can all tlu^ flect-wing'd melody of joy, 
Wliicli, borne upon the snn-blest airs of spring, 
(Sweeps seaward from the heaven-encircling liills 
O'er echo-haunted vales and blooming wolds, 
Drown the sad songs that mourn the urndd dead ? 
Or chaiiu the death bell's restless tongue to sleej) ? 

But yet, it matters nothing ! Heaven ordains 

Eternal change to be the life of nature; 

All beauteous forms, which through the life-full 

dust 
Creei) up, and sun-ward grow in golden germs, 
Resting their crowns on the warm heart of day, 
Perform God's silent ministry, and ])ass 
Like dreams away, but their bright soul remains, 
In fairer guise of beauty to appear, 
And bless the world with grace of nobler life. 

Sweet flowers of spring ! you fill my heart with 

joy, 

And irom the fragrant chalices you bear 
I drink, indeed, the nectar of the gods ! 
You are to me heaven-sent interpreters. 
Teaching the language of diviner spheres, 
And eloquent as angels in God's praise. 



WILD FLOWERS. IJ^l 

When through the darkening chambers of my 

brain 
Shall stream the dawn-light of eternity, 
And deathj with icy fingers, stills my heart ; 
When all the beauty of this world dissolves, 
And globes its splendor in a transient tear. 
Then will the lessons of your gentle lives 
Teach me to meet, with glorifying faith, 
This body's earthly change to perfect life ! 



U2 WILD FLOWERS. 



TO A BEAUTIFUL CHILD.— T. M. H. 

Thou darling, blue-eyed fairy ! 
Thou Avitching, winsome elf! 
To what shall I compare thee, 
SAveet as thyself? 

Thy bright eyes love-lit gleaming, 

Is it not fairer far 
Than Dian's blissiul beaming. 
Or twilights' star ? 

A lily-naiad, dreaming 

By willow-brink'd lagoon, 
Laved in the glory streaming 
From skies of June, 

Is her foreliead's splendor brighter 

Than the grace that crowns thy brow ? 
Would thy cheek, if laid beside her 
Dim in its glow ? 

Are the hearts of roses redder 
Than thy lush and lucent lips ? 



WILD FLOWERS. US 

Is the juice of heath-bells sweeter, 
The wild bee sips ? 

Do fawns, through forests straying 

With fleet foot, seem more free 
Than thou, with the flowers playing, 
And birds o' the lea ? 

Hath the aspen's silvery shiver, 
The harp of the hill-side pine. 
Or the rhythmical murmuring river 
A voice like thine ? 

Thou darling, blue-eyed fairy ! 
Thou witching, winsome elf, 
To what shall I compare thee. 
Fair as thyself? 

Sweet doubts and fears assail me 

That earth, and air, and sea 
Hold naught that could avail me 
To picture thee ; 

Therefore I deem thee rather 

Some spirit in disguise, 

Sent by the Eternal Father 

From paradise, — 



lU WILD FLOWERS. 

Some crown'd, incarnate Vision 

Of serapli loveliness, 
Ortlained, in Christ-like mission; 
To love and bless ! 



WILD FLOWERS. U5 



SPIRITS. 

Spirits of loved ones ! Sainted souls ! 
Whom everlasting love enfolds, 

Are ye permitted still to watch 
Our mortal sphere with lovini? eye ? 

Or from its restless harps to catch 
Murnuirs of mirth, and sounds of agony ? 

Or doth a silence deep as death. 

That knoAvetli neither sound or hreath, 

Encompass y(nir celestial spheres ? 
Like that which reigneth in the tombs, 

Callous alike to smiles and tears. 
To winter's snow, or blithesome summer's blooms. 

When wandering where their dust may sleep 
T iisk the silent flowers which keep 

Fond vigils there by L<ive's command ; 
And, answering my heart, they turn 

Their bright face to the starry land, 
And smile my doubts away with sunny sci^rn 



Ue WILD FLOWERS. 

Fine-souled Affection's second-sight 
Hath power to pierce the skies of light ; 

It lifts at will the veiling shroud, 
Which heaven's divinest glories wear ; 

And tells us man is gird about, 
And holds comnume with spirits everywhere. 

With us still dwells the heavenly part. 
That lit the brain and warmed the heart 

Of loved ones, sleeping 'neath the stones 
Of sepulchres — their purer love 

Enwreathes our life, our hopes and homes, 
With an immortal beauty from above. 

Their seraph pinions round us sweep 
When night hath charmed us into sleep 

With elf-blown trumpets musical ; 
When fairies, clashing silver spears. 

Make chime-like din at interval, 
And breathe their goblin stories in our ears. 

Through all the long days sounding hours, 
When life and love's titanic powers 

'Gainst death and fate stand in array, 
And sin and sorrow glooms the air, f 

They shrink not from our side away. 
But whisper hope to hearts that would despair. 



WILD FLOWERS. U7 

And when our life's swift current glides 
At last into that sea, whose tides 

Engulph the mortal wrecks of time, 
Our souls will catch, with dying eyes, 

Faint glimpse of spirits all divine, 
Who come to guide it to its native skies. 



ns WILD FLOWERS, 



IN A GRAVEYAPvD. 

Tjie ])nri)le sky is darkening into giay, 

The night-wind's earliest Avlii.^prr wakes the 
boughs, 
The crimson flush, that marked the path of day 
Down the steep w(!st, with lessening radiance 
glows, 
And, like a thought flashed from a poet's dream. 
The moon, with glowing splendor floods the scene. 

Aroniul me lie the mansions of the dead, 
The voiceless homes of frail mortality, 

To which life's joys can never penetrate. 
From whose closed portal cares forever flee ; 

The brazen gates which death alone unbars — 

Earth's entrance to the temple of the stars ! 

TIow hushed they lie, the mazy walks around ! 

How deep a silencd guards their sacred sleep ! 
The trees seem bowed to earth with grief ^irofoimd. 

And Twilight comes within their shade to weep ; 



WILD FLOWERS. U9 

Even as I pause, among tlic flowers and grass, 
Invisible spirits, near nie, seem to pass. 

What secrets here lie bnricid fi-om all eyes ! 

What hopes and fears ! crushed 'neath the sullen 
sod, 
Veiled by the awful mystery of the skies, 

Unknown — save to the sleeper, and to God, 
Until that day when His almighty breath 
Sliall fire the world, and rend the veil of death. 

Oh, heart ! oh, soul ! oh, busy, toiling brain ! 

Oh, man ! thou bubble, floating on the waves. 
Turn back, sometimes, from paths of greed and 
fame 

To those that wind among these silent graves, 
And, musing there, let thy sad soul confess 
The wretched vanity of all our worldliness ! 



150 WILD FLOWERS. 



THOU EVERYWHERE. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHULTZE. 

When the moon and stars are paling, 
Morning ope's her golden gate ; 

When the rosy day is failing, 
Moon and stars the world await. 

In the crimson glow of even, 

In Aurora's cloudless rays, 
In the moon and stars of heaven, 

Dearest ! I behold thy face. 

Others pass me in my roaming, 
And their presence scarce I heed, 

But my spirit feels thy coming. 
Long before thy form I greet. 

Yet, when thou art nearest to me, 

Tears, from bashful eyes that glide- 
Born of visions bright or gloomy — 
Yeil thy presence from my sight. 



WILD PLOWERS. 151 

Can I cease to dream so dearly, 

But so hopefully of thee ? 
Thou, who art forever near me, 

Yet forever lost to me 1 



152 WILD FLOWERS. 



INVOCATION TO SPRING. 

Come, lovely Spring ! unveil thy radiant eyes, 
And with a look give blessings to the world ! 
The cruel bondage of the winter-kino; 
Shake from tliy dainty limbs, and bid tlie liours 
Proclaim thee queen of the rejoicing earth, 
And strew thy path with roses. 

Sullen storms 
Shall sink disarm'd before thy fairy feet, 
And change their wrath to lute-like murmuring; 
The clouds shall fill thy chalice witli sweet dews, 
The valleys sing thy praises, and the hills 
Uplift their foreheads to the golden sky 
In silent adoration. 

Come, oh, come ! 
The pallid primrose, and the violet, 
Hid in the gracious bosom of the earth. 
Are dreaming of thy coming ; woodland rills 
Run seaward merrily, with murnun'd hints 



WILD FLOWJiRS. m 

Of stately lilies soon to bow their beads 

And kiss tbc crystal waters. Every tree 

Breathes legends of thy beauty, and awaits 

The gadding winds, that lag on orient seas, 

Impatiently for tidings of thy coming ; 

Every star, that through the glimmering night 

Walks in majestic glory, seems to wear 

An added jewel in its blazing crown, 

To give thy presence greeting ; and the sun, — 

Who fled in haste the winter's sullen skies, 

Unscepterd, impotent — sinks to repose 

Like some proud monarch, robed in jmrple splendor. 

But dearer still than all, oh, beauteous spring, 
The tuneful homage of all gentle hearts! 
Gaunt poverty, whose oft recurring tears 
Flow but to freeze unheeded on the cheek ; 
Sickness, and care, of whom the whistling wind^; 
Through winter's riot made sad mockery ; — 
All these shall hail thy coming with delight, 
Ineffable save in the speaking eye, 
And the unconscious flushing of the cheek — 
The soul's impassioned language ; — thoii, in these 
Shalt see the triumph of thy loveliness. 
And feel the gladness that thy coming brings. 



Wl^ WILD FLOWERS. 

Then shall effulgent Love, the heavenly maid ! 
In dreamlul mood, with eyelids scarce unclosed, 
Tracing the windings of some lonelv dell 
Enwreathe her golden locks with festal flowers ; 
Or, by some fountain in dim woods reclined, 
Breathe her entrancing raptures in thine ear 
And paint thy skies with visions. 

Oh, descend, 
J mmortal spirit of the beautiful ! 
And wlien thy silver pinions, rosy tipp'd, 
Are folded on the fair world's swelling hriNast, 
My heart shall seek sweet counsel from thy li])S, 
And tune its chords in harmony with thine. 



WJLD FLOWERS. 155 



CHILDHOOD DAYS.— SONG. 

Days of childhood, fair and fleeting ! 

Snnny visions of the past ! 
Still your fairy revels keeping 

In the dreams that haunt my breast ; 
Oh, when life grows sad and weary, 

And the heart's bright hopes decline, 
Come on golden pinions near me, 

As in happy olden time. 

Soon these raven locks will whiten 

With the frosts of wint'ry years, 
And the smiles my face that brighten 

Lose their sunny sheen in tears ; 
Oh, with tones of love and gladness, 

Clowned with mem'ry's starry rays, 
Hasten, then, to cheer my sadness. 

Spirit of my childhood days ! 

When the shades of death surround me, 
And earth's weary race is run ; 



156 WILD FLOWERS. 

When life's sorrows cease to wound me, 
And its golden goal is won, 

Eadiant in celestial glory 
Dawn upon my dying eyes, 

Guide my spirit, and restore me 
To the heart's lost paradise ! 



WILD FLOWERS, 157 



LOVE'S FIRST DREAM.— song. 

Oh, tell me not that love's first dream 

Can ever vanish from the heart, 
Or idly lose its golden sheen 

As slow the dying years depart ; 
For in the soul, forever fair, 

Some holy image dwells serene, 
Whose fondly cherished features wear 

The tender light of love's first dream. 

Oh, hright may be the dreams that swing 

Their plumes around the heiglits of fame, 
And sweet may be the dreams that bring 

The days of childhood back again ; 
But on the soul with brigther rays 

Love's morning-suns of glory beam. 
And in the twiiiglit of our days, 

How sweet the stars of love's first dream ! 

For years untouched the harp may lie, 
Yet lives its soul of music still, — 



168 



WILD FLOWEJiS. 



A breath may wander fnnn the sky, 
And \v ike the slumb'ring wires at will ; 

Thus will the heart its silence break, 
And softly sigh, ''it might have been," 

When memory's fairy lingers wake 

The golden chords of love's first dream. 



WILD FLOWERS. 159 



THE BROOK. 

How fair yon brook along the meadow winds 

Its shining way ! Its silver lips are loud 

In beauteous summer's praise ; and as it drinks 

Ineffable glory from the cloudless sky, 

And softly whispers its serene content 

To every flower that blossoms in its path, 

It seems the archetype of all glad things 

That in this world are glad, and bright and free ; 

And yet, how soon tlio smiling picture fades, 

The music ends, the living grace is gone ! — 

O'er the brown hills the baleful north-wind blows, 

Herald of winter ; from their cloudy caves 

Rush forth the raving tempests ; blinded Day 

Shorn of his might and kingly majesty. 

Gropes faint his way athwart the dark'ning 

heavens ; 
Pale Horror flies the land, and Ruin sits 
High-towering, vast, upon her throne of graves. 
Where is the beauty of the summer brook, 



160 Wild flower S. 

The shimmerins; glory of the bloomful fields ? 
Where the blithe song of its melodious lips, 
Breath'd in our ears the livelong, happy day ? 
Where all the radiant grace of loveliness, 
Felt, though unseen — as wlien celestial ]iowers 
From dreamland heights descending, touch the 

heart 
With odoriferous and invisible wings ; 

Ah, where are they ? Would that the heart could 
tell ! 

We only know that beauty never dies, 

But lives in spirit everlastingly ; 

Though every earthly form it takes must change. 

Willed by the love that rules the universe ; 

Therefore we feel that spring will come again. 

And summer, with its wealth of glorious things, 

The same as now, and that this humble stream 

Will hold a gladsome spirit in its breast. 

E'en though the death-cold hands of winter press 

Upon its merry lips, and chill them dumb ; 

And more than this we know — that silently, 

Yet no less surely, 'neath the maslcing ice, 

(Blent with the bolder river's widening flow,) 

Will its fair flood meander to the sea. 

And win the goal triumphant 1 



IVILD FLOWERS. 

So, my love, 

Seemeth the picture of our earthly years; 

Swift glide the shining summer days of youth 

Through ever-bright'ning scenes ; the dainty hours 

With fragrance scent the air, and cloudless skies 

Circle the vision of the dreamful soul ; 

Time's measure is the heavenly harmony 

Harp'd by the rills, that from the star-bright cliffs 

Of Elfland, fall into its golden seas ; — 

And thus the blissful heart throbs on, and glides 

Along the widening pros2)ect of the years, 

Till some dread fate, unseen impending, falls, 

And wintry desolation Avhelnis the soul ! 

The hymning lips are duiu]) ; her harp unstrung, 

Amid the fallen fabric of her dreams 

Behold, sweet Hope in death-like swoon doth lie ! 

Strange horrors seize us, and our smitten Life, 

Sore-wounded, blind, and helpless, gropes its way 

On through the growing shadows of the night, 

And yet, my love, why dread these evil days ? 

This winter of the heart ? Do we not feel 

A hope within that sjjring may come again ? 

And in her train the summer's smiling days? 

And autumn, too, with all her ripen'd fruits? 

And if they should not come, do we not know 



WILD FLOWERS. 



That, whatsoe'er the unkind years may do, 
They cannot touch the silent bliss that flows 
Under the mortal masking of our souls, 
Nor bar the triumph of love-bleuded lives, 
Whose goal is heaven. 



FABLES IN RHYME 



WILD FLOWERS- 165 



FABLES IN RHYME. 

THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES.— ^soi> 
A LARK her nnlle(lj:^ed yoiins: had hid 
Within a fiekl of ri])ening wheat ; 
But fearing that, when she was gone, 
The owner of the field woiikl come 
To reap, and garner in the grain, 
And thus her progeny be slain. 
She told her brood to list with care 
To every word that they might hear 
The master of the grain-field say. 
Whenever she miglit be away. 

One day the farmer, near the nest. 
Said to his S'>n : " I think 'tis best 
To reap the grain ; — we'll call our neighbors 
To-morrow, to assist our labors." 
The young ones, on the lark's return, 
Told her what they had heard that morn. 
And begg'd her somewhere else to go ; — 
'•No need ol haste," she said, " i know 



166 WILD FLOWERS. 

If he depends on other's aid 

The harvest will not soon be made." 

Next day the farmer came ai^ain, 
But neither friend nor neig'lihor came 
To Ik'1]) liini reap the ripeii'd g-rain ; 
The sun grew hot, but nought was done, 
Then said the farmer to his son ; 
" We can't depend on friends or neighbors 
To help us in our harvest labors, 
Go ask assistance of our kin ; 
To-morrow morning we'll begin." 

In great alarm the frightened birds 
Told the old lark the farmer's words ; 
" If that be all," the mother said, 
"We run no risk of danger yet ; 
For all his relatives, 'tis known, 
Have harvest labor of their own ; 
But wlien the men again appear, 
Mark well, and tell me all you hear." 

The lark once more had gone abroad, 
When next his field the farmer sought. 
The o'er-ripe wheat-heads, golden crown'd, 
Their treasures scatter'd on the ground, 



WILD FLOWERS, 167 

And finding still no labor done, 
The farmer said unto his son : 
" This thing I can no more endure, 
Nor wait for help ;— go, and procure 
This very evening sickles twain. 
To-morrow, ive will reap the grain." 

When this the old lark heard, she said : 
"Ah ! now 'tis time to move, indeed ; 
For when a man counts not on friends, 
But to his work himself attends, 
Be sure he promptly pushes through 
Whate'er his hands have found to do." 



lOS WILD FLOWERS. 



THE LION AND THE FOUR BULLS.-iEsoi' 

EouK bulls, by friendly feelings swayed, 

Once on a time a treaty made 

To lir.iwse at all times close to2;ether 
Willie waiiu'ring in the juicy jieatlier, 

And tlius by banded streng'th. defy 

A lion, who was lurking nigh. 

The lion, from a neighboring grove 
Had olten watched the stately drove, 

Hoping a bull would choose to stray 

Far from the rest, some luckless day, 
And so become an easy prey ; 
For well the cunning lion knew 
Attacking all would never do. 

But soon he found the hope was vain, 

And so he tried another game — 

Witli nods, and wiuks, and whisperings, 
And hints, and slurs, and such like things. 

The lion worked upon their minds, 

And prospered well in his designs ; 



WILD FLOWERS. 169 

For jealousies, and angry blood, 

Began to mar the brotherhood ; 
The hatred grew from day to day, 
Each from the other turned away. 

And soon the lion, from his station, 

Beheld their total separation — 
His end was gained ; and, greatly pleased, 
The separated bulls he seized. 

And soon devoured them, one by one, 

A thing he never could have done, 
Had they not listen'd to his crafty tongue, 
But lived in happy union, safe and strong. 



170 WILD FLOWERS. 



THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.— issop 

Where, sparkling down a hillside, ran 

A brook, with music sweet, 
To quench their thirst, a wolf and lamb 

Once chanced to meet ; 
The wolf the crystal current lapp'd 

High up the green hill-side. 
While, far below, the meek lamb crept 

To taste the cooling tide ; 

The wily wolf, upon a quarrel bent 

That would secure the prize which chance had sent, 
At once into a passion flew, 
And to the lamb said : " How dare 

Disturb this brook's translucent flood, 

And meanly fill the stream vith mud 

While I am drinking ? — For this naughty action 
I now demand the fullest satisfaction ! " 

The lamb, with look of deep contrition, 

And frighten'd, said : " With your permission, 



WILD FLOWERS. 17 J 

Allow me, sir, at least to say 

The stream runs doivmvard, all the way ; 

I stuod below, — and you above, 

Therefore, my lord, I beg you, prove 

How I'm in fault, or how you find me guilty 
Of having made your lordship's water filthy ? " 

" Well, be that as it may ; I vow 
You are a rascal, anyhow," 

The wolf retorted ; 
•' Six months ago you banter'd me, 
Behind my back you slander'd me ; 

'Tis so reported." 
" I was not born," the wond'ring lamb oxclaim'd 
" Six months ago, the time your lordship named ! " 
The wily wolf found 
He was losing gi'ound 

The argument tlius to pursue ; 
So, Av axing in ire, 
With eyeball on fire, 

And frothing mouth, nearer he drew • 
"Sinah ! ''" he cried, "your plea is naught ; 

The mischief was done 
By you, or your father, and well I wot 

That is all one " — 
And the wolf slew the innocent lamb on the spot. 



m WILD FLOWERS. 



THE COCK AND THE JEWEL.— .t:sop. 

A BRISK young cock, with his chicking niat(-. 

In tlie barn-yard strutting, with lordly state, 
Was scratching for food on a dunghills' side, 
When a costly gem in the filth he spied ; 

He knew "twas a jewel, fit for a (jueen, 

By its flawless beauty, and lustrous sheen, 
But being too stupid to comprehend 
To what use he could jjut the ornament, 

He tried to cover his want of sense 

With gay contempt, and show of jiretense ; — 
Clapping his wings, and shaking his head, 
With grimace and shrug the young cock said 

"A very fine thing, I admit that you are. 

But you've no business here ; and I declare 
Without hesitation, or scruple of mind, 
A different way my taste's inclined. 

And a grain of sweet barley alone prefers 

To the jewels of all the universe." 



WILD FLOWERS. 17S 



THE FROG AND THE FOX.— ^sop. 

^ FROG emerging from the mud, 

Upon the quagmire's margin stood, 
And thence, with sounding phrase, proclaimed 
To all the earth, that he was named 

The Great Physician, greater even 

Than ^sculap, M. D. of Heaven ! 
And with his drugs, and famous pills, 
Could cure the world of all its ills ; 

At last the fox, indignant, cried : 

"'Tis evident that you have lied ; 

Your limping gait, and wrinkled skin, 
Your crooked legs, and visage thin, 

Declare yom- brazen im])udence 

That would insult our common sense, 
For how dare you pretend, you ugly elf! 
To cure the world, and fail to cure yourself? " 



17 Jt WILD FLOWERS. 



THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.— ^sop, 

A HUNGRY fox, in seanli of prey, 
Into a viiii'vanl cliancecl to stray ; 

Ripe p;rapes, in tempting bunclu'S, Imng 

Upon a trellis, high and strong; 
With many a tiresome lea}) he tries 
To reach the sweet and tempting prize ; 

But, finding all his efforts vain, 

The 1):illled 'io^ affects disdain : 
• Let such as choose these grajtes devour, 
I'll touch them not, for they are sour." 



WILD FLOWERS lib 



THE BOWMAN AND THE LION. 

A HCTNTKR. .skilled in archery, 

Went forth to hnnt one day ; 
'JMie 1 leasts, alarmed at his approach, 

All, i!ell-mell, ran away, 
Only the lion seemed inclined 

To dare the coming fray ; 
Drawing an ;urow to the head 
The howman to the lion said: 

"I wish to tell you something, sir, 

Wait, and receive my messenger ; " 
Swift to the mark the missile flew. 
The lion's thick hide ]iierciiig thi-oiigh — 

Smarting with ])ain, the woniKhnl l)e;i.st 

Hies to the sheltering woods in haste ; 
" Ho!" cried the fnx, who saw him flee, 
•■Return, and face the enemy ; " 

"Nay," said the lion in reply, 

" Such folly I will never try, 
For if thus strong the herald who attends him, 
How mightier still must he the power that sends 
liim ! " 



:?'7^ iVILD FLOWERS. 



THE TWO POTS.— .Esop. 
A SUDDEN inuiulution caught 
An earthen and a brazen pot, 

Which on the river's margin stood, 
And swept them out upon the il().)d. 
Said brass pot to his eartlien mate : 
"Come to my side ; be not afraid, 
I will defend you, brotlier ; " 
"I thank you," said the othrr, 
"For the proposal you have nia(l(>, 
But 'tis of you I'm most afraid ; 
Dash r on »du, or you on me, 
The siitlcrci- I am sni'e to lie ; 
So I prefer to float alone, 
And beg you will nol nearer come. " 



WILD FLOWERS. ni 



THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOR.— .esop. 

A MOUNTAIN once, (no matter in what year), 
Was said to be in labor ; such a quaking, 
Unearthly groaning, rumbling, roaring, shaking, 

Was never known before. From far and near 
The people came, and round the mountain stood, 
An anxious, whispering, wondering multitude ; 

Long time +bey watched, to see the monstrous 
birth 

Burst through the walls of its huge prison-house 

At last, from the rent mountain's side, creeps forth 

A mouse. 



178 WILD FLOWERS. 



THE BELLY AND ITS MEMBERS.— .Esor. 

Long time ago, beyond the reacli 

Of any man's imagination, 
Tlie Body's parts, endowed with speech, 

Forgot their i>uri)0ses and station, 

And so, in solemn convocation, 
Tliey eacli and all, resolved to teach 

Their brother, Belly, by rebellion, 
That he was nothing but a leech, 

A lazy, good-for-nothing scullion. 
Who gained Ids living and support. 
By what their labor could aiford ; 

Therefore they swore, by earth and skies, 

To cut him off from all sup})]ies : — 
"I," said the Hand, "will never raise 
A finger to increase his days ; " 

"I," said the Mouth, "refuse to take 

Food offered for the Belly's sake ; " 
The Teeth : "If we his rations chew 
May we be rotten, through and through ! " 



WILD FLOWERS. 179 

This solemn covenant and league 

The rebels scarcely kept a week, 
For soon they found their strength decay, 
And the whole Body waste away ; 

Thus forced, by stern experience, 

To learn that they could not dispense 
With their despised brother member. 
The Belly, they proposed surrender ; 

Convinced that one, no matter who. 

Without the other could not do. 
And that the Body's health is then the best 
When each, in friendly concord, aids the rest. 



180 WILD FLOWERS. 



THE WIND AND THE SUN.— iEsop. 

Between the North-wind and the Sun 

Arose a friendly disputation ; 
Each claimed to be the stronger one, 

And precedence in station ; 
This question of supremacy 

Tlie disj)utants agreed should be 
Decided thus : 

"Who, for his sake, 
Shall first the traveler force to take 
His cloak off, hath the victory." 

Then blow the Wind his coldest blast, 
Whelming the land with sleet and shower, 

The traveler, however, grasp'd 
His cloak the tighter, and the power 

That ruled the pitylessly pelting storm 

Served but to fold it closer to his form. 
Then came the Sun ; his welcome beam 
Shone bright on grove, and field, and str^^am, 

And on the plodding traveler's head 



WILD FLOWERS. 181 

The glory of the heavens was shed ; 

But as the sun more fervent grew, 

Far from his side his cloak he threw, 
And, by the waxing heat oppress'd. 
The grove he sought, for shade and rest — 

The sun had gained the victory ! 

For love and kindness stronger be 

Than blustering force and tyranny. 



182 WILD FLOWERS. 



THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.— ^sop. 

An Ass put on a Lion's skin, 

And in this guise went roaniino; ; 
His silly mates, from fieUl and l)in 

Fled, when they saw him coming ; 
Elated with success, he tries 
To scare a Fox whom he espies 

Across the pasture straying : 
"Ah," said the Fox, "you would indeed 
In fright'ning me to death succeed, 

Had I not heard thee braying.'' 



Wild flowers. iss 



THE OLD MAN AND DEATH.— ^sop. 

An aged man, who long upon his back 

A burden bore, 
Sank in despair upon his toilsome track, 

Weary and sore : 
And called on Deatli his misery to end 

Foreverniore ! 
Death straightway came : " What dost thou want. 

my friend ? " 
"To rise again," he said ; "thine aid I meant 

But to implore." 

THE END. 



GILL'S WOEKS, 

UNIFORM IN IMITATION MOROCCO. 

I. Evolution and Progress. An ex- 

pbsitioii and Defence. 295 pp. - - $1.50 

II. Analytical Processes; or, The Pri- 
mary Principal of Piiilosophy. 483 pp. $2.00 

III. Christian Conception and Ex- 
perience. 238 pp. - - - - $1.00 

_^s©~ tbr sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, iwstage 
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THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

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HIGHER THOUGHT. 

Evolution and Progress: 

All Expusilidii and Defence. The Fonndation of 
Evolution Pliilosopliically Expounded, and its Argu- 
ments (divested of insiffiiiiicant and distracting physical 
details) succinctly stated; together with a review of 
leading opponents, as Dawson and Winchell, and 
qnasi-opi)onents, as Le Conte and Carpenter. By Key. 
William I. Gill, A. M., of Newark Conference, 
N. J. The fast rohone of the International Prize 
ISeries. TiiiuD Edition. Cloth extra, imitation 
morocco, fine })aper, 295 pp., 12mo., Price . $1 50 
Each volume in this series was awarded a prize of Two 
Hundred Dollars in addition to copyright, in a competition 
which was ojjen one year to the world, and where over three 
hundred manuscripts were submitted and read. 

DESCRIPTIVE OPJyJOKH OF EVOLUTION A.SD PKOGKESS. 

One of our most caiulid and Iboughtfiil writers.— Dr. Crane. 

.He Is a clear and strong reasoner. — Cincinnati I'lirialidv Standnrd. 

A partieularly slroiie arKutuewt. —Evaiisville (Ind.) Dull;/ Journal. 

It Is ably written. iJullil,') on pliilosoiphical \ir\in'i\Afs. — Ji'ruoklyn Union. 

The attitude <>r Mr. (ill!, and his eouraj^e lu uiaiiilaining ii, are worthy of 
tiOte. — A'tto York World. 

1 rejoice in all aiteni|>'^* "f this kind, made in a spirit like that which 
prompts your work.- Ih rhtrt Sjnncer. 

Mis wntinns are niai kid liv stiong common sense, sound logic, and clear 
demonstration.— .V^f/i"(/i.»/ Home Journal. , 

It is a book of original thinking on one of the greatest themes A. 

keen, tlii>uglufnl, vigorous volume. — CroZti«n Age. 

lie .strikes witli no velvet glove, but with a steel-clad hand, dealing h".s 
blows witli equal profusion and inipartialiiy .— A«w; York Trihune. 

His effort is earnesl, alile and Imkl It presents. In all their naked 

slreuKlh. Ihoughls ami ai ijiinienis which will have to be met and answered.— 
The jittltodist. Sew York. 



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Analytical Processes; 

Or, The Primary Principle of Pliilosophy. By Eev. 
William I. CriLL, A. M., uutlior of "Evolution and 
Progress." The Third Volume of the International 
Prize Series. Clotli extra, fine paper, uniform with 
" Evolution and Progress," 450 pp., 12mo. Price $2 00. 

A work which the committee cannot (lescril)e wiilioiit seeming to exagger- 
ate. It is marked by extraordinary deptliand originality, and yet it is soclear 
and convincing as to maKe ils novel conclusions aiiju-ar like familiar common 
sense.— Frojrt Report of Committee of Prize Aw<ird. 

It contiiin.s a vast amount of aiile and conscientious thought and acute criti- 
cism.— Z>r. ilcCosh, Prest. Princeton College. 

A specimen of rohust thinking. I am very much gratified with its thorough- 
ness, acuteness and logical coherence.— i>r. Anderson, PresH Rochester 
University . 

Ecclesiology : 

A Fresh Inquiry as to the Fundamental Idea and Con- 
stitution of the New Testament Cliurch ; with a Sup- 
plement on Ordination. By Rev. E. J. Fisii, D. D. 
Cloth extra, fine paper, 400 pp., 12mo. . Price $2 00. 




The Beauty of the King : 

By Hev. a. H. Hollow ay, A. M. . author of "Good "Words 
for S. S. Teachers," "Teachers' Meetinpcs," etc. Cloth extra, 
174 pp. 12mo, $1.00 ; full gilt, heveled edges, $1.25. 

A remarkably clear, comprehensive and intelligible exposition of the 
natural and spiritual causes, processes and effects of the birth, life and 
death of Jesus— a subject much discussed, yet not generally understood 
now-a-days. 

Life for a Look : 

By Rev. A. H. Holloway, A. M. Paper covers, 32mo. 

Price, 15 cts. 

Earnest, cogent words, marrowy with the spirit of honest, old-faehionecl 
Beligiou. 



THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY'S NEW BOOKS. 

Christian Conception and Experience. 

By Rev. Wm. I. Gill, A. M., author of " Evolution and Pro- 
gress," "Analytical Processes," etc. Imitation Morocco 
i2ino. .... Price, $i oo. 

A fresh exposition and argument, practically enforced by a remarkable narra- 
tive of the conversion of a skeptic through this same argument. While it exhibits in 
parts the philosophic cast of the author's mind, its vivacious and lucid treatment 
will create for it a universal interest. This third work — in order of publication — 
by this fearless investigator, has, in large part, been written since his Trial before 
the Newark Methodist Episcopal Conference, under the charge of " Heresy," for 
writing his Evolution and Progress, and it supplies abundant, fresh and vigor- 
ous thought-pabulum for tlie entertainment of heretics, critics, and Christians alike. 

Restirrection of the Body. Docs the Bible Teach it ? 

By E. NiSBET, D. D. With an Introduction by G. VV. Sam- 
son, D. D., late President of Columbian University, D. C. 
Fine English cloth, l2mo. Price $l.oo. 

This is the careful work of an independent thinker and bold investigator. He 
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almost made a coward of thought. He begs no questions, makes no special plead- 
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Meverend Green IViUingivood ; 

Or, Life Among the Clergy. By Rev. Robert Fisher. 

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cate satire. In short. Rev. Green Willingwood says and does precisely that which 
is wont to be said and done, but which, for obvious reasons, cannot be spoken from 
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PRACTICAL THOUGHT. 

Mercantile Prices and Profits; 

Or the Valuation of Commodities for a Fair Trade. 
By M. K. TiLOX. Handsomely printed, 8vo., paper, 
100 pp., In Press. 

Tlie author has brought broad experience ajul comprehensive research to 
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invests every chapter with the grace and charm of a well told story. 

Monetary Feasts and Famines; 

Labor, Values, Prices, Foreign and Fair Trade, Scarcity 
of Money and the Causes of Inflation. By M. K. Pilon, 
author of "The Grangers." Uniform with "The 
Grangers," — (In PrefiS.) 

Gold and Free Banks: 

Ways to arrive at tlie Demonetization of Gold and 
Silver, and tlie establishment of Private Banks under 
control of the National Government. By. M. R. 
Pilon, author of " The Grangers." Fifth Edition. 
8vo., 18G pp., paper cover, . . Price 75 cents. 

The work is interesting, and especially valuable to financiers.— ./^ersej/ City 
Daily Jonrnol. 

He gives exi)ression to a good deal of sound financial principle.— ioitisutiie 
Daily C'>mniercial. 

It Is fui. of common sense Valuable for its facts, its thoughts and Its 

suggestions.- yroy Daily Whio. 

Is written in an Interesting and popular style and contains much useful In* 
forniutiou.— Oaftianci, Cal., Daily News. 

Tlie subject of the high valuation of gold and silver currency is fully dis- 
cussed, and offers sCine new ideas worthy the attention of those interested id 
monetary affairs. — jToi^do Commercial. 

The author is a merchant who has extensively studied t lie currency problem. 

His hits are often sharp and incisive Mr. I'ilon would provide ample 

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Discussing the currency question in an original, forcible and enter- 
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unquestioned ability in the author's handling of it.— Baltimore Nethodist 
Protestant. 

The Manuscript Manual : 

How to Prepare Manuscripts for the Press — practical 
and to the point. Paper, 26 pp., 8vo. Price 10 cents. 

A most useful little companion to the young writerand editor.— T/i*; South, 
ye to York. 
Ulves excellent hints to iatcud'ii^ writers. —Cleveland Evan. Me.<!se.nger 



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ESTHETIC THOUGHT. 

Irene; or, Beach-Broken Billows: 

A Storv. Bv Mrs. B. F. Baer, author of "Lena's 
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fine thick paper. 1 Jmo. . . . Price $1 00, 

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Poems. By C'iiakles AV. IlruNEH, author of 
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As:i poet .Mr. Ili-iiNEn Is conservative— alw.iys tender and delicate, never 
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Guarded by a Fear: 



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A good story, vividly and beiiutifully told, full of attractive originality, character and 
Ingenuity ol plot. 



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Women's Secrets; or, How to be Beautiful: 

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Fair Minthe ; or, The Curious Origin of Mint Julip : 

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